In Shadows Waiting

Important Author's Note! But you don't have to read it if you don't wanna.

First of all, I would like to welcome you all to this story. It's, uh, going to be a ride. Understand this — I am writing this to get back into writing after having a months-long hiatus. I'd been somewhat sick and couldn't write, but now that I've returned, getting into a decent writing schedule proved a challenge. Therefore, this story. I'll do my best to make this story as interesting as I can, but this is first and foremost an exercise in writing and experimentation. This also means I will welcome any feedback on ideas and execution. Hell, you can flame me if you want to.

Well, that's all I have to say. No, wait, also! This is an AU. The worldbuilding in Naruto is inconsistent at best, so I made my own. Now, let's rock it.

Chapter 0 — Prologue: Magic Eye

"Again."

And the crashing sound of Kunai hitting Kunai in mid-air followed the word — once, twice, thrice, a dozen times and maybe more, all within a few second's time. The dagger-like weapons collided against one another with pinpoint accuracy, struck from their course by the impact every time.

The rectangular dirt field they stood upon had been neatly divided into two by a line running across its middle, and each half seemed to belong to a student. On the right, a young girl of about 9 years, with messy locks of cherry-coloured pink cascading down each side of her face and her shoulders. Her hands were bruised and battered, with small cuts on each finger as she moved her spasming hands to the Kunai pouch she wore on her thigh. Green eyes glared impassive holes into the 'enemy', filled with both wonder and spite alike.

On the opposite side stood a boy, hooded and proud, who couldn't be a day older than the girl he was faced against. His fair skin was of a stark contrast against the trail of blood that ran down his face from a thin cut across his cheek, touching the corner of his lip and dripping slowly from his jaw. His hair was of an intense golden colour, messy in style despite most of it being hidden by the orange hood he had up, and his eyes were of the brightest blue.

He was an odd boy, that was clear — though it was hard to say exactly what looked weirder on his face. The three lines running across the skin on each cheek in his face, like whiskers on a cat or fox…

… or the earth-splitting grin on his lips, laying somewhere between happy and just plain deranged.

"That, " Uzumaki Naruto began, eyes lighting up with a strange kind of excitement that was hard not to feel scared of, "was AMAZING!"

Across the field, Haruno Sakura felt her hands relax slightly around the Kunai she had grasped firmly. Naruto had the habit of forgetting to stop when exchanges ended, often overtaken by a strange glee in the thrills of combat. Sakura could somewhat relate to that feeling, honestly, because it was empowering like little else, but still.

"Uh, thanks?" She tried. He was kinda hard to speak to, honestly — the boy was usually boisterous and nice to the point of being overwhelming, doing his best to impress and make himself look likeable. His attempts were usually not successful, but it was hard to blame him for trying. The boy's life at home was dysfunctional at best, from what she knew; self-esteem issues we're probably the least of his problems

Naruto nodded again, placing both arms behind his head as he turned his gaze to Umino Iruka, their Instructor, who gazed upon them with something between awe and apprehension. Sakura wasn't stupid; that Iruka wasn't Naruto's biggest fan was obvious, even if she couldn't figure out why, and Civilian-born Ninja were looked down upon by most. Still, he always did his best to be fair when judging them, and that was something both she and Naruto could appreciate.

"You've… done very well!" He announced with a peppy voice, despite the minuscule trembling on each corner of his smile denouncing what both she and Naruto already knew; he was forcing it. "I didn't expect to get five perfect exchanges from you two. Naruto, you left her nick your face once, and Sakura, it took you a while to get that he was aiming for your hands. Both of you should probably work on your perception."

As was the custom in their village, Sakura took care to straighten her pose and bow to the man, hands behind her back with her index and middle fingers on each hand wrapped.

"Yes, Sir!"

Naruto's bow was a lot looser compared to hers, but it was passable — and absolutely intentional, they both knew. Naruto's weird problem with authority was notorious throughout Konoha, and not even his "favourite teacher in the World!" was exempt from such disdain.

"Thanks, Sensei!" Was what he said instead, and Iruka's smile grew shakier still.

The Chūnin sighed to himself, dragging his gaze across both of their faces for a few moments before he shrugged and allowed a more honest smile bleed into his face.

"You've done well, " he repeated, softly this time, and she could practically hear Naruto's breath catching. But when she turned to look back at him, all she saw was his smile once again, as bright as the morning sun.

Naruto wasn't really her type — he wasn't ugly, but he was a little too scrawny for her. His smile had always been pretty, though, a thing of true brilliance that could be seen from miles away. Maybe not the kind that made you swoon, but the kind that could light up a room if it was honest.

For some unexplained reason, it always sent shivers down her spine.

The Namikaze Estate was in one of the most fortuitous parts of Konohagakure, one always under the Monument's watchful eyes and only a few blocks away from the Hyūga and Nara estates. Though not a proper Clan Estate, it was spared none of the luxuries a Clan might need, from multiple houses to a Clan Library and meeting rooms.

It was honestly a little overwhelming. Neither Minato nor Kushina — and I don't think I need to introduce the Fourth Hokage or his wife — we're particularly high-maintenance, both more than happy to live a middle-classed life with few comforts and the blessing of anonymity to enjoy each other's company. Alas, since their family had expanded by three, a two-bedroom apartment stopped being an option, and then ultimately decided their children deserved the best.

Believe it or not, they did try to be decent parents. One might think otherwise, depending on who was asked, but it was hard to doubt their good intentions. In the end, both the Hokage and his wife were fundamentally good people — but the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

So, stop me if you've heard this one.

Kushina stands in the courtyard, training with two of her children. She announces her pride in them, tells them she loves them. They celebrate with ramen outside. And a third child looks from the inside with wistful or bitter eyes, ignored by all.

That sounds familiar, doesn't it? It's one of those stories, the kind that gets twisted as time goes on. The core stays the same, but the context makes or breaks it, and this particular issue was more complicated than you'd think. In this case —

Well.

"Good job, Mito! You've really gotten that exercise down."

The sun was already setting, but the three women — rather, two girls and one woman — showed no signs of slowing down their training endeavours. One of the unexpected boons of having an unnecessarily large estate was the courtyard, large enough to practice pretty much every Jutsu that couldn't blow up the house itself with room to spare. Flowers bloomed on almost every inch that they had touched, sprinkles of colour denouncing a greater sin — the phenomena called Chakra Stimulation.

When he was feeling particularly nihilistic, Naruto wondered if that would be their best contribution to the world — colours sprinkled across its surface, left untouched after their creators were finally struck from existence as a punishment for their sins. Chakra was the energy of life, after all, and each place it had been used in would experience a sudden increase in plant and wildlife.

It was one of the most ironic and iconic signs of danger. Whenever you walk somewhere and note there are too many flowers around, stay on your guard — more often than not, that means you are in Shinobi territory. Death is denounced by the colours of life.

The ground under Namikaze Rin's feet was covered in flowers, reds and blues and whites crushed under her navy Shinobi boots. She kept herself on her feet by pushing her hands against her bent knees, marks on her face and arms soon to grow into bruises as she glared with a pair of cerulean eyes at her victorious sister. Unlike Mito's and like her brother's, Rin's hair was of a golden splendour akin to her Father's, though it was shaped much like Kushina's own. Blood dripped from her lower lip unto the ground.

"That was not fair, " she announced, voice denouncing her irritation. It got little out of her sister but a giggle and a wave of her hand, a silent dismissal of her 'butthurt woes', as Mito had once put it. Their mother watched them both with crossed arms and a look of pride on her face, long hair tied into a ponytail by the excess fabric of her headband.

She still sported her Jōnin flak-jacket… for no discernible reason other than to look like she had authority. He supposed she had worked her ass off to get it, so she might as well wear it, right?

Well.

As for Naruto, he spent another few moments watching them from inside his room before sighing and shutting his window closed. It snapped with the impact against the wooden frame, and the blonde boy let himself stop kneeling on his bed to look outside and fell on his back instead.

This —

This was all routine. And Naruto found he didn't really mind all that much. There was a strange comfort to be found in this routine of theirs, a predictable pace in a sea of uncertainties. It was in the bitterness he felt when their looks of pride just didn't reach him and in the pride, he felt when they looked at him wistfully from behind. It was in the awkward and uncomfortable moments in silence, in the reticence before they said the word family when referring to group activities, in the surprise in their faces when someone talked about him outside.

What a lovely and terrible thing family was. As for Naruto? He found comfort in the way his fingers dug into the fabric of his oversized orange jacket, sinking into their threads until he could feel them pressed against his chest. It might seem senseless, but it was nice to feel grounded and real sometimes, a proof he was really there, he wasn't invisible. He left his true feelings unspoken, of course, the bitter things they were; instead, they manifested themselves in little showings like these, spread throughout his body and soul.

Uzumaki Naruto was nine years old. Still a child, so naive. But the clouded look in his cerulean eyes was always a thing of aged beauty, akin to a storm bottled to grow. Those same eyes travelled the length of his dark room, from the drawings stuck to the walls to the ink stains on the wooden floor, until they reached the mirror on the opposite wall to his bed, just beside the door. He gazed upon his own reflection, glared at his own pale skin, marvelled at the way his golden locks cascaded down his face and shoulders and then sighed.

"I really need to get my shit together, " he whispered. Only silence met his words.

...But Uzumaki Naruto wouldn't dwell on it for much longer. He jumped up from his spot at the bed, pulling up his jacket's hood until his waist-length golden hair was hidden behind the fabric and grabbing his signature goggles from his nightstand. He let a dramatic yawn escape from his lips, stretching not unlike a cat before grinning at his own sad sight.

"...I'll be fine. Today's a brand new day to kick ass."

The mirror remained unconvinced.

Have you heard about the Kyūbi Child? — asked the whispers.

What a sad, lost, lonely child. What a cracked, bright, broken child. What a dangerous, menacing, terrible child. Those were all things that were said, whispered by men and women with stares that held hate and pity alike.

They hated Uzumaki Naruto, the Kyūbi no Yōko. They pitied Namikaze Naruto, a little shadow on the wall. Out of those two options, Naruto chose to embody the one that insulted him the least. Thus, any comments he heard on his way to the fields were answered and silenced with wide grins of a foxy nature and silenced in either rage, fear, or shame.

It's funny. It is, he told himself. It has to be — but he'll be damned if it isn't painful, being the butt of a cosmic joke.

The streets of Konoha weren't as unfriendly as they could be. As one of their Jinchūriki, he had learned as much very early in his life. Out there, things weren't this nice. Iwa's Jinchūriki were notoriously unstable, and the Nanabi was famous for having to be re-sealed every few years after its vessel entered a murderous frenzy. It was bad here, but good by comparison; "You could be going through a lot worse than this, " his teachers told him. From the history books he's smuggled from his Father's library, he came to learn that they deliberately didn't mention Kumogakure, where Jinchūriki were honoured to the point of obsession.

His eyes lingered in one of many little tents, where toy ANBU-like masks we're being sold by an odd man with a smiling face. The masks were very clearly mass-produced, with some minor mistakes here and there and overall low standards of quality, but he couldn't help but feel fascinated by them. One, in particular, attracted his sight — a porcelain-like mask mimicking a Kitsune's grin, painted in cheap reds over the pure white.

He smiled to himself, mentally counting his Ryo to make the purchase, but as he met the seller's eyes and noticed the sudden disdain amidst their colour, that smile quickly faded away. With a shake of his head and another sigh, Naruto opted to leave the man alone — and the whispers followed him still.

On the bright side, it only took him... Say, fifteen minutes to get to his location. The sun had barely set by the time he got there, and some of its orange light still shone through the leaves and trees that surrounded the Training Ground. He was alone, as usual, and surrounded by some discarded tools left behind by uncaring Shinobi, also as usual. He'd complain about their messes if it didn't give him something to do while he waited.

So he got to work instead, walking the field's perimeter and pocketing each Kunai, Shuriken and cut piece of Ninja Wire he came across at a leisurely pace. He didn't really need to do this, honestly; Naruto came from a wealthy family, in the end, and his monthly stipend was more than enough to buy him some cheap tools at the first blacksmith he came across. But it was still nice to have extras, and Sensei liked to take his damn sweet time anyway.

— the slight sound of grass dancing in the wind. A single leaf was blown into his sight by a stray gust, dancing carelessly in small waves before it finally fell to the ground. Naruto's posture stiffened at that, but he didn't have to look to know he was no longer alone.

"You really like that damn technique, don't you, Sensei?" He asked in place of a greeting, crouching to grab another Kunai. A baritone chuckle answered his question.

"If you knew it, you'd like it too, Nami—"

'Swoosh' — the silent sound of something fast splitting the air. Within a split second's time, Naruto's eyes had flash crimson and he'd whipped his hand to flick his wrist and throw the Kunai at the gutsy man. Had he not taken care to jump to the right almost instantly, it would've lodged itself into his brain.

Instead, it flew by harmlessly and found itself embedded into a tree, much to the masked man's amusement.

"Sorry, Naruto. I mean, Uzumaki-kun... I know how sensitive you are about that."

Crimson eyes gave way to cerulean, and what had been the cold expression of a killer melted into an easy-going smile. Naruto waved his teacher's words off with a chuckle, hands once again behind his head.

"Nah, it's fine. Honest mistake, right? I'll forgive ya."

The words were spoken in a careless tone, but his eyes hadn't lost their edge. They'd known each other for long enough now for it to be obvious — that had been done on purpose, a clear attempt to push Naruto's buttons.

… and it had worked. Crap. Naruto would have to remind himself to keep his cool; having such an exploitable button was bound to get him killed. Still, god damn did it piss him off. He had to resist the urge to cross his arms.

Sensei chuckled again, his long black robes flowing in the wind like the short, choppy black hair he sported. The man's black mask revealed nothing of the face that laid behind it, blending in well with the rest of his attire. In the mornings, he'd stick out like a sore thumb — but it was a good disguise to wear at night.

He supposed there was a reason the Ninja of old had dressed in black, even if modern-day Shinobi opted for more specific camouflage.

"And I am grateful, " Sensei replied. "Now… I trust you've completed my last assignment?"

Tch.

This time, Naruto did cross his arms indignantly. The blond child raised an eyebrow, clearly miffed by what he seemed to perceive as an offensive question.

"Who the hell do you take me for, Sensei? Yeah. It's done. Dunno what the hell you're planning, but the scroll was planted."

Sensei hummed his agreement, expressionless void of a mask staring back at Naruto's own unwavering expression. Finally, the man shrugged his shoulders, waving at the blond child with his left hand.

"I see. I didn't doubt you for a moment, Naruto, but I still had to check. And you made sure you weren't followed? I doubt you'd be able to sense ANBU."

Naruto scoffed at that, complaints held back at the last second. He knew it was true, of course; no matter how good he was, he was still an Academy Student. He was good at leading the ANBU on a chase when someone needed pranking, but that came down to his knowing the Village's layout like the back of his hand. Actually, detecting them when they were trying to hide? No way in hell. It still sucked to hear though.

"Yeah, " he replied. "Though I'm not sure why you'd need me to plant a half-burnt scroll in the sewers. Any decent Shinobi knows how to dispose of evidence, so I betcha they'll think of forgery almost immediately."

"You're absolutely right! But they'll have to check anyway, no?"

Sensei's reply was swift, but Naruto remained unconvinced.

"Yeah, but even if the info checks out, they have some of the best there. They'll know it's a forgery, and then they'll be on the lookout."

"Well, we're fortunate it's not a forgery, then. An acquaintance managed to… acquire it from a friend of the man himself."

A pause.

The blond had to resist the urge to raise an eyebrow in silent appreciation. Huh; Sensei's acquaintances were always so competent. It was honestly kind of intimidating, but he supposed that came with the job description when dealing with ANBU. Konoha's Spec Ops were a lot cooler than you'd assume, huh? Before he met Sensei, he'd assumed they were just a non-Uchiha police force or something.

"Well, that works out, then. Not sure why you want the Uchiha to find that so badly, but I guess it's not my problem. Plus, they're all a bunch of stuck-up asshats anyway."

Sensei chuckled once again, patting Naruto's hair patronizingly. The boy opted to soak in the attention anyway, the touch-starved mess that he knew he was.

"That they are, aren't they? A far cry from their previous glory. Ah, but don't tell them I said that." The Masked Shinobi paused for a moment once again. "Better than the Hyuuga, though. Pale-eyed bastards."

The Uzumaki considered his words for a moment, then nodded sagely.

"Agreed," he concurred. The Hyuuga were worse, with all their "Tradition!" and "Facial Expressions are the work of Satan!" or whatever. That Hiashi dude gave Naruto the creeps, big time.

… He would have to prank the asshole at some point. He was supposed to stop doing that, but an exception or two could certainly be made, right?

The sound of something hitting the grass next to his feet interrupted his mischievous musing, and his cerulean eyes were drawn to a scroll that was carelessly thrown next to his feet. It was clearly old, with the paper having already yellowed with time and looking very delicate. Naruto turned an angry glare to Sensei's unrepentant form.

"What?" The older man questioned, shrugging once again. "I got you the damn scroll, didn't I?"

That wasn't exactly the problem, clearly. Naruto carefully bent down to pick up the scroll, then pointed at Sensei and stomped his foot in a remarkable show of frustration.

"You should be more careful with it, y' know! It's a timeless relic! Respect the scroll, bastard Sensei!"

"Hai, hai… I am truly sorry, Mister Scroll, Naruto-sama" And he bowed dramatically to illustrate his regret. "I won't do it again! Please, allow this lowly sensei to make it up to you —"

Within a second, the man had already grabbed something from under his cloak and thrown it up. Naruto's eyes trailed the movement in obvious surprise, and he had to jump back to catch the scroll before it hit the ground.

"— By giving you an extra~. I hope you like it!"

Cheeky bastard. Naruto would so pummel his ass one day. For now, though, he turned his gaze to the scroll he had been given, and let his eyes widen in surprise.

"Sensei, this is—"

Sensei snickered at his dumbfounded and awed expression, covering the area his mouth would be in with a hand.

"Not a bastard Sensei anymore, Naruto? You're so easy to please! Jokes aside, it's a gift from me. You're into that boring shit, so I thought you'd appreciate it!"

The blond's response was to tackle-hug the man, of course. Again, touch-starvation was a thing. More than that, however, these scrolls were… well, a huge deal for him. He couldn't wait to show them to everyone.

Wait, no, backspace, not a good idea. Well, he would settle for finding them cool by himself.

Bright baby blues looked up at the man dressed in black, and Naruto wondered if Sensei was actually smiling behind the mask he wore. But it didn't matter; the man had given him so much already.

"I'm glad you seem to enjoy my gift, Naruto, but I really have to go now. I'm sure you'll enjoy it thoroughly. Still, remember to take care of yourself… and don't forget to keep working on your training, little pest! I know how excited you get around your little cocktails."

— The bastard just had to ruin his joy, didn't he? Honestly, Sensei was a huge asshole. Naruto pushed the man away like he was infected with something nasty, scowling childishly and blowing a raspberry at the man.

"Don't ruin the damn moment, you cryptic fuck! Just get out. Same time next week?"

"You got it."

And then he was gone as if he'd never been there, and Naruto was left alone and grasping his new scrolls tightly to his chest. A smile adorned his face, small and excited; a far cry from his usual rambunctious expressions.

Yeah.

Sensei was a bitch, and he knew for a fact the man was using him, but that was fine. He still saw him. That was all that really mattered.

That was just how the world was like, in the end. We all want something.

And some won't stop until they get it.

Somewhere in the sewers, a Chūnin stumbles upon a half-burnt scroll.

She woke up with a gasp and the sudden feeling that something was off. Something important, delicate, precious - With that abrupt realization, Namikaze (née Uzumaki) Kushina jumped out of bed with a special type of creeping panic.

Her children. Ever since that fateful night nine year ago, Kushina was sometimes consumed with a restless worry for the safety of her kids. It came with the nightmares, with the empty bed she slept on when Minato was too worried in the office, in dancing fabric she could sometimes mistake for a cloak.

It was childish, it was stupid, it was paranoid - But despite her being a Kunoichi, Kushina was still human, still a mother. Sometimes, when she let her mind wander a little too far, she would look to the side and swear she could see the Masked Man's reflection on the mirror in the hallways, haunting her always. She'd crossed the house before her mind caught up with her feet, walking to the end of the hallway where all three of her children's rooms were, all three of them closed. Mito-chan's was on the right, with little stickers and drawings in red and pinks decorating the canvas of the white.

It creaked open with the slightest push, and the red-haired woman was able to creep in to scan the dimmed room with a pair of attentive amethyst gaze. Relief flooded her system like a crashing tsunami when she saw her daughter asleep atop her bed, under some three layers of blankets and with soft snores leaving her mouth. Her crimson hair was messy enough to look funny, entangled and falling off the side of the bed in locks and curls.

Out of her children, Mito was absolutely the one more like herself - which in turn meant the girl had little in common with her namesake, amusingly enough. The girl could be cocky at times, with a demon's temper spread hair thin with the slightest of insults and a damn strong right hook. She was also kind, however, and far more sensitive than the girl liked to let others notice - Minato still had the flowers Mito had picked for him in his office, proudly sitting next to his Team Picture.

Kushina took the time to approach her sleeping form nonetheless, laying a soft kiss on the girl's cheek before sneaking out of her room in complete silence, thankful for the many skills she'd acquired throughout her life as a Shinobi.

Rin's room, in comparison, was a tad blander - She was a neat child, much like her father had been, and that showed in the way the blonde had arranged her room. Everything was neatly organized in her shelves and containers, all of which she could see from her spot outside her room. Rin's door remained open at night, a habit the girl had developed as a young child after struggling with the nightmares the Kyūbi could sometimes induce.

Namikaze Rin could be a little hard to deal with at times. She wasn't very confident and, because emotional maturity was unknown to children of any age, dealt with that by acting as if everyone was beneath her. Though Mito was the cocky and ill-tempered one, Rin was the one you should fear the most - When she got angry, she got nasty. But she was also a very sweet kid, doing her best to help everyone around her in her own roundabout way and sneaking presents and tips to her sister and classmates here and there, whenever she thought no one was looking. Kushina hoped she would learn to be a little nicer now that she'd apparently decided Hiashi's meek daughter was her best friend, but…

Strong personalities were a staple of the Uzumaki clan. They might not carry the name, but they carried the blood and that was that.

She still sneaked in to press a kiss against her daughter's cheek and watched with some mirth as Rin mumbled something incoherent in her sleep as a response, curling more into herself. Kushina pulled her blankets up to her shoulders with care, smiled to herself, and took the time to walk away.

Everything was fine, she told herself. But she still had one more door to check.

— Her breath wavered as she turned around and started at the door to Naruto's own room. At some point in time, and she hated herself for not noticing, the boy had drawn exaggerated caricatures of herself, Mito and Rin with the words "Keep Out!" written above them and their faces crossed out. The very edges of the wooden for were singed sometime in the past, but she'd never had the guts to ask him how.

All she had to do was turn the handle and check on him, she told herself. It would be simple, just two movements and a look before it was over. Just to settle her worried (and guilty) heart. She had to know if Naruto was safe.

— No, she didn't. Wait, where did that thought come from? She did. He was family. No, he wasn't. Her mind grew hazy. Static filled her ears. He wasn't family. She didn't have to worry about him. Just look away.

Kushina's hand trembled for a few moments before she sighed and turned away. It was a shame, really — had she spared the door handle another look, she would've recognized the strange pattern of the Sharingan flashing on her amethyst eyes.