Naruto Uzumaki was a dreamer.

He strove for a village which looked upon him with anything but judgement. Companions who he could love, who he could laugh and grow with. Strength with which he could protect those friends, fulfil his own path of a ninja; protect his mentor's, no, his, vision. The serene vision of the world at peace. He fought and bled for his dreams, and his love. The love entrusted to him by a kind, effeminate boy; the empty shell of a God; the smiling remains of the scarred man who almost took everything from him. The love which he failed to impart onto his brother.

Bathed in the now fruitless hopes of the world he had shouldered, Naruto Uzumaki yet again dreamed.

As his throat ran dry, nails dug into a dirtied palm, face contorted, he dreamed.

Of a world where his brother smiled upon the gentle wails of a bundle of joy that bore his eyes. A pink haired angel looked lovingly at both, her tears decorating her smile.

Of a world where he beamed at the curious gaze of a boy who bore his cheeks. His eyes turned to his love, elegantly sat and observing her world with immeasurable warmth.

Pain.

It shot through his body, punching out his breath and tearing through the sight of his ironic utopia. Spluttering, he spat out the bitterness from his mouth, coughing, jerking awake. He roused, hand grasping at the bloodied stump on the other side, and grunted. As the muddied fingers tried desperately to feel something, only to clutch at thin air, his breath hitched, body singing to the lament of a phantom pain. Slowly, his eyes opened to reveal a monotonous blue, only for them to hide once more to a wince, as the world assaulted his every sense - biting at his ears, stabbing through his eyes and rending his body. The come down was anything but gentle - he released a quiet, breathy scream that fought tooth and nail to let itself out.

Several figures approached his view, their voices shrouded by a shrill buzz; but to him, they all meant nothing. For as he gazed upwards at the vast blue, he did not see the visual cacophony of black blood and mud; Naruto Uzumaki's eyes only saw the archipelago that decorated the sky, the remains of a forgotten time. Tears acted as a mercy, clouding his vision but doing little to stop the despair roaring through his soul, for Naruto realised - he had failed.

Naruto Uzumaki was a dreamer.


Glynda Goodwitch was a woman of principle.

"Ozpin, you cannot possibly be thinking-"

"I can, and I am, Glynda,"

But principle was all for naught in the presence of the Headmaster of Beacon. Immortal, knowledgeable and wise as he was, Ozpin was simply insane at times. Times such as these.

"We know absolutely nothing about the boy! He appears out of thin air, leaves a crater around him, stinks of bloody murder and you want to do what? Are you out of your mind?"

"Gly-"

"No! Ozpin, there are boundaries! I know you've had crazy ideas before, but this is beyond that - this is the future we're nurturing here, students who will protect Remnant!"

"I only ask that you trust me here, Glynda."

A huff escaped her lips; the cheeks around them were tinted red, and a bead of sweat crawling down only signified her dwindling patience with the man in front of her. Ozpin knew he was treading on thin ice, suggesting something so seemingly outrageous. And yet, he continued.

"You saw him, did you not?"

"I do trust you Ozpin, but this is madness! It doesn't matter what I saw, the fact is, we have no idea whether he's here to kill us or kill us!"

"You saw his eyes."

A short silence.

"Those were eyes of hurt, Glynda - of shame. I don't know what this boy, no, man, has been through, but it would be an injustice to call it anything less than a tragedy. Do you think this man is really capable of hurting others? He's mourning."

"Tragedy can lead to hate as well, Ozpin. His eyes could mean nothing if they're hiding someone who deeply hates; did you not see the blood? Forget hurting, we could be looking at assault, murder, even mass murder if the mess around him is of any sign,"

He sighed in resignation - of course his assistant was right. At one glance, there was no way to tell if the man was hurt or hurting. But through all of his years, he had come to know what purity and warmth really were, and he had once again seen it that afternoon a few days ago. Waning as it were, it was still there. It permeated his soul, refusing to yield to the emptiness that threatened to overtake it.

"I have a feeling, Glynda, and let's just chalk it up to that. But perhaps, there may be an alternative reason to keep him here: have you noticed something about his aura?"

"W-what? His aura? There was nothing left, of course - the wounds should be evidence enough of that," She frowned, being caught off-guard by the sudden change in topic. "But I suppose… I did notice something strange. I checked up on him earlier, and there was no aura recovery whatsoever."

"Yes, strange, isn't it? It's been long enough that anyone should have fully recovered their aura, yet his has not even appeared,"

Worry was plain on Glynda's face. Such a thing was impossible - aura permeated everything, and even laid dormant in the souls of those who had not yet unlocked it. The thought of something so foreign plagued her thoughts, and she could not help being afraid of the unknown.

"I've never seen anything like it. But the true danger lies there; do you not think that others will notice too? I don't know why this has happened, but I will not give our enemies the chance of taking him. He could be a danger, but what good is a dangerous individual wandering around unchecked? He is surrounded by the finest huntsmen in Remnant. If he's good, then we have a new friend. Otherwise, we can deal with him."

She could not bring herself to argue with him. As risky as this was, this was what she was used to from the Headmaster, through all her time as his assistant - questionable decision after questionable decision, yet all of them would somehow benefit the school in some roundabout way. He was the Headmaster for a good reason.

"What should we do with him then?"

"Well, we should start with a chat. But for now, we wait,"


Light filtered through the blinds, painting the slouched figure orange, and warming his cold skin. He was leaning back on the bed, and his shallow breath, rounded shoulders and melancholy disposition indicated that he was anything but awake. The corners of his face and cheeks were covered in white splotched with red; the bandages tussled with his dirty blonde hair and hid the remains of his baby fat. Loud, metronomic equipment surrounded him, all connecting to him by some concoction of tubes that revealed white and red liquid constantly pouring into his veins. As the hour went by, the rays crawled toward his eyes, and struck.

Naruto once again stirred, carefully opening his eyes only to wince at the harsh light. He grimaced and shut them once more, preferring to stay in the comfort of his dream. His body was still numb, unable to perform anything but the smallest of movements, which still shot pain through his torso. He contented himself with staying this way, unwilling to observe the unending nightmare that surrounded him, the nightmare that had refused to end for weeks.

"So, you've finally awoken," the noise broke through, interrupting his fantasy. His nose scrunched in tired confusion, and he groaned to display his irritation at the interruption. He raised his hand to shield his eyes, flinching as he did so, and opened them for the first time in days to land on a grey haired, bespectacled man sat beside him. The man scanned him with caution, but his gaze still held warmth; his only return was a tired, thousand yard stare.

"I'd much appreciate you stayed that way - I have been waiting for this for a few weeks," continued the smooth voice. "I do apologise for taking so long to come see you. Your arrival caused quite the commotion amongst some, you see. I thought you would prefer if I dealt with that before you were introduced to us."

He blinked as his eyes accustomed themselves to the brightness, and slowly homed into the soft apparition of the broken moon. The afternoon sky futilely tried to shelter the moon from his gaze as he continued to ignore the man beside him. Said man let his eyes wander to the same sight, sighing as he did so.

"Melancholy, isn't it? Something so imposing, so ever present, laying there broken for us all to see."

Who was he to know? Melancholy wasn't the right word for it. Instead, it filled him with dread. He resigned himself to his helpless thoughts - his memories of death, suffering and impending doom. The vision of a pale beauty with pure white hair, the stature of an angel decorated with the expression of a monster. Her judgement plagued his mind, a power that decreed humanity guilty, something that tore apart his world in the effort to build a flawed one. A world in which he was living in, he presumed. A sad chuckle escaped his lips, betraying him and his broken hope.

Infinite Tsukuyomi, huh?

There was no other explanation, really. Why else would he be staring at the remains of the prison that he had created? Spite, that was all that Kaguya held. His dry laughter continued mirthlessly, as he recalled the events leading up to his nightmare.

Sasuke. His brother. The one destined to end the world just as he was fated to save it. A fucking idiot. For all the genius that Sasuke had, somehow he had forgotten after all that it took two to create that prison for the goddess. It was one problem after another for Naruto Uzumaki, who took to bathing in his sorrow. Years of training, of loss and heartbreak, of hope and drive only to be struck down at the last step and to be humiliated by the very falsity he sought to stop. All of his loved ones, gone, his village, gone, his world - all sat happily in their visions of glory, the same vision which spat at the life he had led up til now. The irony was not lost on him but was not welcome either; his eerie chuckle stopped, eyes closing once more as he turned, expressing his desire to be alone.

Naruto Uzumaki sat, unbelieving. To believe would be to spit on the graves of his precious people, the ones who had laid down their lives to save his world. To believe would be to-

"But I suppose it's all we've ever known."

Because you're an imposter.

"You seem to be familiar with it somehow, though. With such a desperately sad feeling. An expression like that doesn't suit one so young."

He did not reply, remaining still. His head filled with merciless comments, half intent on drawing the ire of the goddess, half cursing himself for his failures.

"Young man, my name is Ozpin. I am headmaster of the school in which you are currently residing, Beacon Academy. Weeks ago, you appeared in the Emerald Forest, and it was quite a violent introduction, I might add. I haven't seen destruction like that in a while."

Ozpin pushed down on his cane, stood up and walked towards his line of sight, studying him as he did so.

"I know nothing about who you are, why you are here, and how you appeared here. All I can see is the destruction you left behind, and the look in your eyes. I have a duty to this school, you see - to protect it, and its future. Whatever your past is, I can see your suffering and I wish to help you relieve yourself of it,"

The words resonated with a long lost past, with the boisterous young boy who loved his village. A resigned smile crept onto his face, already being stricken by another insult the false world threw at him. It was a glum deja vu, and with that Naruto experienced all of Kaguya's spite and ironic humour, if it could be called that.

"There's a hole in your heart and I can see it, bright as day - you have loved and you have lost, undoubtedly, but your youth still burns; it would be a shame for you to waste it."

The unexpected image of green beasts invaded his otherwise ill-lit mind, and caused him to chortle, before he quickly stopped it. Ozpin smiled.

"So the stone face can shine after all," he said, with a tone of relief.

"Please, leave me alone," he croaked back, his throat still sore. His knuckles were white and his veins angrily decorated his fist which shook with the first display of passion that he had shown. Arms stiff and neck tensed, Naruto looked away once more, feeling ashamed and naked from the preening, dissecting eyes of the man who did not exist. Ozpin's smile did not lessen; he only nodded as he turned, leaving him only with the words,

"I know nothing about you, but it matters not. You are welcome to stay for the rest of your recovery. I will try to visit you more regularly, but I just ask that you let me help you, young man,"

"You know my name." he replied with finality, leaving no room for question in his eyes. Ozpin stopped in his tracks, a confused expression adorning his face, before it quickly settled back into the faraway, wise look that seemed like home to his features. Confusion was met with scepticism, before the boy shuffled back into the covers and Ozpin hesitated, before turning to the exit once more. Naruto's thoughts raced.

He's lying. She's laughing.

As the door closed, Naruto's mind struck him with weapons of his own making.


Ozpin was a scholar.

No one could boast the knowledge that he held, especially considering that he had amassed it over several more lifetimes than anyone else. But as he left the infirmary, Ozpin the scholar was confused. Who was this boy? What had happened to him? Had he lost his memory? That would explain the confusion and sorrow, yet the last words he had spoken to him rung out and stabbed doubt through that theory. How could he be certain that he knew his name? Despite the several lifetimes worth of experiences, Ozpin held immense command of his memory, and he was sure that he had never met this man before. It was unlikely that he mistook him for someone else - his introduction and unique status in Remnant saw to that. He did not want to consider the possibility of a mental lapse; his optimism stopped him from painting the man in that light, but how else could he explain it? The hurricane of thoughts accompanied him to his office, where his longtime friend waited.

"Did you have any luck with him?" Glynda asked. She was visibly tired, exhausted by the preparations for the upcoming academic year and the discomfort of having a potentially dangerous but unknown character residing in the school. Her duty did not allow her to sit by and wait for the situation to boil over. Her question was interrupted by the sound of the kettle, and Ozpin slowly walked towards it, taking the opportunity to meet her gaze.

"If you consider a request to leave and a mysterious statement as luck, then I suppose, yes."

"A mysterious statement?" Glynda's slender brow raised. "When he awoke to me, he did nothing but stare at the wall, refusing to answer any question."

Ozpin chuckled, unsurprised by the rather crude approach that his assistant had taken. Glynda was a woman of many talents, but her delicate side was only shown to few, and certainly not to any stranger.

"He needs care, Glynda. Striking him with a hammer will do little to earn his trust."

Her cheeks momentarily flushed in shame, but her fierce eyes came back stronger. She looked down at his hands, which dutifully attended to the two mugs on the table.

"Regardless of your feelings, Ozpin, he could still be an enemy. Though he may remain in Beacon under our supervision, it does not mean that he should earn our trust."

"Trust is a two-way street, Glynda. I believe that both sides will be more comfortable with a little trust. He is a honest man; his mouth is guarded but his eyes betray his every thought. I hope that he will be able to trust us with his past, and then perhaps we shall learn why he is as interesting as he seems,"

"His lack of aura? I'm not ashamed to say, I'm a little scared by it. It seems… foreign,"

Ozpin did not reply, instead gazing out the window, at the school that he built. It was what he desired to protect, a place that raised those who protected. Kept the humanity he loved alive. Certainly, he was taking a risk and possibly threatening what was precious to him, but he could not shake his gut, which had not failed him thus far. The appearance of the boy had thrown a spanner in the works, all part of the greater machinations of the war between him and his old love. He knew her powers, and this was not one of them. This was not something that the old magic could achieve; no, that was only possible through the relics, which were all accounted for. He knew one thing for certain: regardless of what the boy was or what he represented, he could not fall into the wrong hands. Unknowns were dangerous in Ozpin's world, a place where he supposedly knew all. Yet, this unknown was different.

"We must not let him go, Glynda. I cannot risk him being taken by Salem; she has had many generations to strike at the world, but none had something like this."

Looking back at Glynda, he pondered how his theorems would change with this new variable. His mind turned to the last words he heard, words which added even more complexity to the man. Brows furrowing, the immortal slid her hot drink to her and stirred his own. It was a mug that held his comfort, and he took in the homely smell, relishing it, allowing it to relieve his worries. He sipped, and let himself go.

"He told me that I knew his name,"

Ozpin considered himself a scholar, but he could not solve the mystery of the man with no aura.


AN: This chapter acts as a prologue, but I don't know if it's too short. The next update might be put into this chapter.