8th Year of Danzo's Rule

It was cool and damp in Ame. Once again, Kakashi couldn't sleep. Was this the fourth night in a row that nightmares and restlessness plagued him? He sat despondently at the window, watching the rainfall in the night, his thoughts again on the painful past and worrisome future.

Sometimes he felt so alone in the midst of the Akatsuki, his stomach would ache and his head and heart would pulse painfully and he'd be reminded that no one here was truly his friend or his ally, certainly not his masked former teammate that had a penchant for disappearing. He had seen Tobi (Obito, his mind supplied) again this morning and the meeting had not been pleasant.

Kakashi was just about finished with his training, sweaty and tired and hungry when the masked nin swirled into existence right in front of his kunai. Kakashi, recognizing the chakra and the infamous technique, managed to kamui himself away from his reckless former teammate.

"You should have just thrown it, you bastard."

Kakashi sighed. "You know I couldn't have, Tobi."

Tobi then rushed him, attempting to fight, but Kakashi just used kamui again to reach the kitchen where Kisame was cooking. The blue-skinned man didn't so much as flinch, used to this routine. Tobi never displayed his true, suicidal antics in front of the other Akatsuki members, but Kakashi had told Kisame.

"That weirdo tried to get you to kill him again, right?"

Kakashi didn't reply. He just slumped down in the chair and tried to stop his hands from shaking and his left eye from bleeding.

Even now, as he stared out at the endless rain, Kakashi replayed Obito's words from eight years ago. My death will be at your hands, I'll accept nothing less.


Shikamaru shuffled his feet and slowly trudged to the Hokage Tower. Under his right arm was his Shogi board, in his left hand his uneaten lunch. Since his father was arrested three years ago, Shikamaru had been allowed to visit him every now and then. He was always notified by an ANBU while on his way to class early in the morning, and none of his clan or peers knew about the abrupt visits.

He silently opened the wooden doors, trudged through the lobby, and up the stairs. After flashing his notice he received from the ANBU that morning at the secretary, he was waived through.

The Hokage's office was dark. Though the sunlight from the windows behind the desk filtered in, the light didn't seem to reach its straight fingers far enough into the room to brighten it. Shikamaru bowed slightly and stared at the bandaged, dark haired man scrawling his pen across paperwork. He wondered how the old man could see what he was writing in such little light. The Hokage slowly looked up at Shikamaru, as if sensing the academy student's doubts about his eyesight.

"Thank you for coming, Shikamaru. We will go down now."

Shikamaru followed the Hokage out of his office and down the spiral stairs. At least eight floors were passed, and his shorter legs struggled not to trip as they descended at an impatient pace. He knew what this was. The Hokage was using Shikamaru, and everything he represented (family, clan, youth, future) to ensure his father's cooperation. Parading him through what was essentially the dungeons of the Tower and "allowing" them time together was simply a trick to remind Shikaku to only act as a jounin commander and strategist that would benefit the Hokage's plans.

His father's prison cell was his office, and Shikamaru tried to mentally prepare himself as they neared the door. Two, tall ROOT ANBU guarded the entrance, and a smaller ROOT member was also on standby, ready to scan and run messages from Shikaku to the jounin headquarters. They all bowed to the Hokage, not even turning their white faces toward Shikamaru, and one of the tall agents turned to follow them into the cell.

"Shikaku, your son is here to visit you. You have two hours." The Hokage left, sending a meaningful glance to the ROOT ANBU stationed in the corner.

Shikamaru set his bento on his father's desk, watching as Shikaku opened it and tried not to eat too ravenously, and began setting up the Shogi board. His father looked worse each time Shikamaru visited. His hair was too long, the bags under his eyes too dark, and his face too grey and thin. But when he reached out to pat Shikamaru on the head and bring him into a hug, his hands were steady and his arms were strong.

They were not allowed to speak, or the ROOT shinobi would kill Shikamaru, but they managed a great deal of communication between facial expressions and playing Shogi. Shikamaru always lost the game, but always learned.

Don't give up.

Protect your comrades.

A good leader learns from his people; gets to know his people.

Danzo is not a good leader.

His dad shook his head, a warning sign in his eyes.

Don't be so bitter.

Mom misses you.

Always, after losing the Shogi game, Shikamaru would use whatever time remained of the two hours to curl up next to his father and silently read from his school textbooks.

When the Hokage returned to escort Shikamaru out, he always said the same thing. He placed his hand on his shoulder and murmured a thank you, Shikamaru and blankly bored his dark eyes into Shikaku's. The prison door would shut, and Shikamaru didn't know when he would be summoned to see his father again.


The scrawny boy just stared at Shisui. He'd bring him food, and watch him eat. He'd bring him scrolls, and watch him read. He'd shove him under his cot every time a guard passed, and sit on the floor opposite Shisui and watch him suppress his chakra signature down to nothing. It was tedious.

Shisui sighed, nodding to the meal the kid had brought him. "Do you like soup?"

The kid just continued staring with large, blue eyes and Shisui almost scoffed. Of course he liked soup; it was all they ever served in this awful place.

This was the fourth day of silence, but he kept trying.

"Do you like to read?"

Nothing.

"Can you read?"

Nothing.

"I know you know what I'm saying." He gently put his bowl down and slid it toward the boy, giving a nod of thanks.

"You do know that if they find me here, we'll both be punished?"

At that, the boy pulled his under eyelids down and stuck his tongue out. Well, at least it was a reaction, if a rude one. Shisui was about to crawl under the cot again and take a nap, but a high pitched voice was suddenly heard.

"Is Orochimaru-sensei still going to teach me?"

Shisui eyed him. "Why wouldn't he?"

A small scowl was drawn. "You did something to him. With your bloody eyes."

"It was a genjutsu, an illusion. I'm sure if you go barging in his lab again he will be back at his experiments." He noticed the tension easing from the thin shoulders. "What was he teaching you?"

At that question, the blond's eyes lit up. "About chakra! And, sealing. I have to practice calligraphy a lot, but I can already do the storage seal and explosion seal. Sometimes, I try to copy the seal on my tummy, but it's too complicated."

Seal on his tummy? Why would such a young boy have a permanent seal on himself? Shisui paled. The child was about the right age, if a little smaller than his cousin, Sasuke-kun. The blond hair, blue eyes, and whiskered cheeks were all taken into account.

"Can I see this seal on your tummy? I bet it's pretty cool."

The boy chirped an agreement and only hesitated slightly before taking his shirt off. Shisui had to gulp down the surprised curse words. Not only was the blond too thin, but sure enough there was a thick, curling black seal on his stomach and a ropey, starburst shaped scar on his chest. Shisui reached out to touch it, but the boy gained a fearful look in his eyes and shrank back.

"It's okay, you can put your shirt back on," Shisui whispered. "Kiddo, you never did tell me your name, you know?"

The boy frowned. "Everyone calls me 'jinchuriki', but Orochimaru-sensei calls me 'brat'."

Shisui sucked in a breath. "You don't know your name?"

Another frown. "Hokage-sama says I'm not worthy of a name."

They stared at each other for a moment longer. "Of course you're worthy of a name, everyone is given one from their parents."

"Don't have parents."

"Yes, you do kiddo. Everyone has parents, it's how people are made, and your parents gave you a name."

He could see longing and uncertainty in the boy's eyes. He bit his lip before quietly murmuring, "I don't know my name."

Shisui remembers Mikoto-san's redheaded friend, bright and happy, always bringing sweets for Itachi and himself. He remembers a tall, shaggy blond haired man softly congratulating him on his graduation from the Academy. He remembers the pain the village went through at the death of the two, and the terror realizing Sandaime-sama had also died, sealing the Kyuubi into their young child, and the relief that many of Konoha's ninja and civilians felt upon learning Danzo had killed the child, and the tear streaked face of his cousin (practically his nii-san), Obito, as he kissed Shisui's forehead that dark night before leaving forever. Shisui remembers Sasuke-kun's disgruntled look as he talked about his classmates at the Academy, a muttered it just feels like someone is missing slipping out of the dark haired boy's mouth.

Shisui slowly reached out so as not to startle the blond, anger and sadness making his pale hand shake slightly as he grips the bony shoulder. "Naruto. Your given name is Uzumaki Naruto."