"Today is the day, today is the day!" I crow from my perch on the counter. "Let's go, let's go Masanori-san!" I'm practically vibrating with excitement.
"Go on," The strict woman shouts from the other room.
"Take a breath. It isn't that exciting, Brat." The nickname rolls off his tongue smoothly, more a term of endearment than insult. Four years together has washed away any genuine ill will between us, and words we used to trade like blows – in those moments when our suspicious banter and stifled vexation spilled over—have since gained a softer edge.
That isn't to say we trust each other. I never take the man's words at face value, and even the hidden meanings and intricacies that I do glean are far from the complete picture. Every jutsu Madara has taught me (a total of 3 right now) is met with disbelief and a healthy dose of reservation (a lesson learned after Masanori-san caught me practicing the hand signs for Tamashī Tensō no Jutsu, a stolen Yamanaka technique used to transfer a soul into a new body, or in my case, switch the soul in control of my body.) Long story short, I trust Madara about as far as I can throw him, which isn't very far right now, but it growing with time.
"Yes it is!" I practically squeal, "Today is the day I get to see Konoha for the first time! And…" I pause, considering my next words carefully, "today is the first time you get to see your home in years." Madara doesn't respond, but I don't expect him to. Konoha is a touchy subject at the best of times, and though Madara claims he doesn't mind talking about it, he conveniently quietens whenever his old home is mentioned.
I rush to the door, bouncing on the balls of my feet. "Come on, Masanori-san! We want to see outside!" I had taken to referring to Madara and myself in tandem when talking to others. If Masanori noticed, she didn't comment.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" The woman barks, "you have a hand, open the door yourself." I grin and flick the seals, designed to repel all kids below the age of four. Sucking in a deep breath, I twist the handle, fling the door wide, and making to rush outside. The sight that greets me forces me to stop and I titter on one foot, the other frozen several inches off the floor.
Children at the orphanage are not allowed to leave until they are four years old: old enough and well trained enough, Masanori says, to get around. I thought she was referring to a kid's ability to make their way back to the orphanage if they wandered off, or perhaps she was hinting at the less than savory neighborhood our orphanage might be constructed in. Now I can see that I misunderstood, for out of all the possible scenarios that the lack of windows and peculiar toddler proofing seals on the only door, this never even crossed my mind.
"What the hell?"
What the hell is right. Instead of the dirt streets and sprawling flat buildings illustrated in the manga, I am greeted with a jungle. A giant forest grown from trees easily hundreds of feet tall, more similar in size to the concrete skyscrapers of my first life. Tentatively, I shuffle forward, away from the security of the orphanage.
"Genjustu?" Madara mutters, and I numbly pull on my chakra, causing it to stutter, but the trees don't waiver.
I halt several feet away from the platform ledge, even from my vantage point I can tell that the orphanage is constructed at least a hundred feet off the ground, and there is no railing. I am not scared of heights. Nor am I scared of accidentally tripping over the edge, (for even at my age, my balance and reflexes are too honed for such a simple error). And if I am slightly terrified of the inevitable smack of fragile bones and soft flesh against the ground a hundred feet below should I trip, I will never admit to it. Cautiously I pivot and taking a step back to admire the orphanage I've called home for the last four years.
It is carved directly into the massive tree, with only a small, bark covered façade with only a single door and window carved out of it, protrudes from the trunk. It looks as though the tree grew around the building or perhaps the tree grew into the shape of the building. This would explain the lack of windows on the orphanage interior, with the exception of the one I could see, which I know looks into Masanori's office. Above the door hands a red sign with black lettering that reads "The Konoha Shinobi Orphanage". Directing my gaze upward I can see that there are several more buildings carved into the tree's trunk, though many of them are hidden from my view by platforms. Thick branches, vines, and the occasional rope bridge – some wide enough to carry several lanes of carriages, other so thin that only a single person could comfortably cross – weave in and out of the giant trees like a spider web, connecting each platform to one another.
It looks like something out of a fantasy novel. Like if you were to take the forest of death and mash it with an elven tree city. Beautiful, but dangerous. Very dangerous. Who knows what kind of traps are concealed within the trees.
"Village Hidden in the Leaves indeed," I choke out.
Flopping on my stomach, I carefully wriggle forward until I can peer over the edge of the platform and look down. Below me is much the same as what is constructed above. Houses and buildings are for the most part carved into the giant tree trunks, though some seem to be constructed on the outside of the trees. In some places the wood of the tree seems to grow out of its own trunk, as though the tree's itself were coaxed into growing houses. Other buildings hung from giant branches, suspended tens of meters off the ground. Some platforms extend the whole way around the trees, supported by massive buttresses, seemingly also grown from the tree. Everything is connected by an interlocking system of rope bridges and branch roads. The ground floor is made of snaking cobblestone and dirt paths lined by houses and building built around the massive tree roots.
"Quite a sight, isn't it?" I jolt in surprise and my head whips around, purple hair smacking me gracelessly in the face. Masanori stands next to me, sandaled toes curling over the platform edge.
"Yeah," I breathe out, returning my gaze to the village, "It's beautiful."
"Yeah? Is that all you can say? Where the hell is my village?" Madara exclaims, clearly confused and sounding maybe a little wounded.
Masanori's voice distracts me before I can answer, "Natsu-chan, I have places to be. Are you coming?"
I shake my head numbly. This was a lot to take in. Too much to take in. The language is different and now the village is too. What else is different? No, what is the same? I need something that is the same.
"Where—" I cough, finding my throat unexpectedly dry, "—is the Hokage monument?"
"The Hokage monument?" Masanori hauls me to my feet, a hand gripped solidly around my upper arm, betraying her strength as a former ninja, and drags me out into the middle of one of the wide bridges connected to our platform. Surprisingly it doesn't sway under our feet. She points at a gap in the trees. "Right there."
"Delta verse," I croak.
"Delta verse," My companion agrees in an equally tight voice.
For where there should be the seven faces of Hashirama, Tobirama, Hiruzen, Minato, Tsunade, Kakashi, and Naruto, in that order and only that order, Madara and I are instead met with three faces.
Senju Hashirama.
Uzumaki Mito.
Sarutobi Hiruzen.
.
"Oh my god!" I pace, small feet kicking up water with every step, soaking my pants. One hand nervously wrings the edge of my t-shirt and the other tugs on a strand of my hair, using it as a focus point. "What do we do? What do we do?" Panic fills my lungs and my breathing is labored, just on the edge of hyperventilation. Though Madara and I managed to maintain some semblance of self-control until Masanori brought us home, that control had long since slipped away, overwhelmed by panic.
Madara sits in the water, his own shock having rattled him enough to forget to channel chakra to remain afloat, though his face, even younger than the last time I saw him, remains expressionless. I can still feel his concern, churning and twisting into knots.
"Everything we know if wrong," I continue, "Even our, well, your history! I had hoped, you know, just a little that we were still in Beta verse, and you just forgot how to speak your own freaking language because you are a child again—"
"I am not a chi—"
"You look like you're six! And truth be told, you act like it too," I explode. I stomp over to him and grab his face, forcing him to meet my eyes, "How long have you been lying to me? Huh? You knew this wasn't your world the whole time! The whole fucking time! And you know what?" I release his face and turn on my heel. "I believed you! This whole time! I though, hey, maybe considering he's fucked without me and we both know it, maybe he'll fucking tell me the truth!"
"Guess old habits die hard." I whirl on Madara and he meets my glare evenly, gunmetal grey to burning red. (There is only one tomoe, another lie Madara didn't deign to share).
"Yeah, clearly." I huff and drop to the floor, taking a seat with my legs stretched out in front of me and leaning all my weight on my hands. "Fuuuck."
I fall quiet, still glaring daggers at Madara. I wonder if he'll combust out of my life if I glare hard enough. Amaterasu his ass with my non Sharingan eyes. Ha! That'll be the day.
What a joke.
I slide my hands back until I am lying in the water, arms stretched out to my side like a starfish.
What a fucking joke.
"You done yet?" Madara asks.
"No."
"Alright."
Time contracts before me. We had a plan, an idea of what we needed to do and how long we had to do it. It's all gone up in smoke now. Now we don't have a plan and we don't have enough time even if we could make one with the limited information we now have.
"We haven't lost any time. It hasn't gone anywhere," Madara says.
"Don't read my thoughts."
"Don't read my feelings."
"I'm not."
Madara sighs, "Now who's the liar. Take a breath."
I grit my teeth and push the remnants of Madara's rage away from my own panic, separating our emotions. It's a bad habit for me to "I don't need your help."
"Too bad. You're getting it anyway. Especially now that everything we thought we knew is wrong." Yeah, and who's fault is that, I think viciously. Maybe if your fugly mug told me the truth I could have come up with a solution by now.
The silence drags on, neither one of us willing to let go of our frustration quite yet.
Most of the night passes before I speak again. "What are we supposed to do now?"
"Same as what we were doing before. Train. Get stronger."
"Fiercer."
"Mm. Fiercer," Madara agrees.
I have to be the best. If there are only three faces carved into the cliff… War is coming. And if war is coming, then I need to be prepared because I'll be damned if I get killed because I didn't try. This is a world where children are no more than pawns on a chessboard. So I need to be good enough that I'm worth something.
"We are named after a god. Did you know that?" Madara pushes himself to his feet and walks over to me, splashing back down next to me. I splutter in indignation as the water sprays on me. "Narukami. The god of thunder and lightning. The god of storms."
"Name you've heard of before?" I wonder.
Madara looks down at me eyes sharp and analytical, but I avoid his gaze, resolutely staring into the abyss above us. "Not for any person I've met," he start's slowly, "but there is a legend with a boy of that name. A powerful man considered a demigod in the eyes of some. Perhaps it's how your mother chose it."
"A fairy tale," I deadpan, "yeah, right. Our mother clearly didn't want us. She has no reason to give us a name like that."
"I could do without that sarcasm," comes Madara's short response, and I wonder when he'll finally get fed up with my immaturity, bullshit, and general ineptitude and finds a way to end me. At the rate I'm going, probably sooner rather than later. I should probably work on not antagonizing the man.
But right now I'm not in the mood. "Tragic."
If he were a lesser ninja he might have reciprocated my hostility, instead he just shakes his head slightly, "Doesn't matter why you were given that named, but you were. You have a legend to live up to."
I groan and press the heels of my hands to my eyes.
A beat passes and Madara continues, "Storms blow into this world on a whim, and it's just an unfortunate coincidence that humans happen to be in the way. The leave destruction in their wake. Perhaps." A gentle hand on my cheek pulls my eyes towards his. "Perhaps, one day, we will be much like the unstoppable force of nature we are named after."
"That'll be the day," I snort derisively. Because that day is so far away from where I, we – I correct myself – are right now.
Madara simply shrugs. "I don't know much about lightning. Fire as always been more my thing, but I know that in the wake of every big storm, every blast of lightning sparks a fire."
I shift my head to look at him. "Then teach me how to be a storm. Because if I'm going down, I'm bringing this world down with me."
.
I drill the hand seals over and over again.
Tiger, Ram, Monkey, Boar, Horse, Tiger.
I drill them until my fingers are bruised from banging into each other.
Tiger, Ram, Monkey, Boar, Horse, Tiger.
I drill them until I can run them perfectly with my eyes closed.
Tiger, Ram, Monkey, Boar, Horse, Tiger.
I drill them until the sensation of switching between one seal and another is burned into my nerves, burned into my muscles.
Tiger, Ram, Monkey, Boar, Horse, Tiger.
If Masanori noticed my recent dedication to my training she didn't comment. And if I noticed her sneaking me scrolls on chakra control and taijutsu kata and ninjutsu techniques from the ninja library then I didn't comment either. In this way, we fell into a weird symbiosis.
My new found motivation and work ethic freed more time for Masanori to focus on the less prodigal (although I would hardly call myself a prodigy considering my handicap) members of the orphanage, and in turn Masanori left me to my own devices.
I appreciate Masanori's willingness to indulge my independence especially my young age. I know that it's because she can sense the war brewing (everyone can. The whispers a growing louder. Just last week an entire squad of chunin were slaughtered on the border of Kusa. There are no industrial imports from Iwa after the trade ban. Tensions are climbing and even the smallest spark will send the world into chaos.) Masanori's job has always been to forge unwanted children into soldiers, weapons for the village, and I am no exception.
My independence does not exclude me from her heartwarming talks about the greatness of Konoha.
Patriotism, nationalism. It's an honor sacrifice your life for Konoha's greatness. It's an honor to die for your village. You would be regarded as a hero.
Madara calls it brainwashing. He is too dignified to spit, hiss, or curse at Masanori's words. Uchiha do not deign to such behaviors, especially (ex-)clan heads. But he does whisper. He whispers about Konoha's darkness; her betrayals and underhand tactics. He whispers that no matter how grand Konoha pretends she is, she is still a shinobi village and there is blood on her hands.
He talks as well. He says that this blood on Konoha's hands (on our hands soon) is necessary for the betterment of our goal. He reminds me that our dreams are more important than Konoha. He talks of the glory and power and rapture he experiences when he fights, and his euphoria tingles across my skin. Not for the first time do I wonder if I can even tell the difference between his emotions and my emotions anymore.
This too, is brainwashing. It's hard to tell if it's working or not.
I forge my battle armor as a smile. Grin and bear it.
Tiger, Ram, Monkey, Boar, Horse, Tiger.
Author's Note
A shorter chapter then the last one. 50% caused by writers block. 50% caused by the sudden realization that I have not done enough world building for Delta verse and I gotta figure shit out before writing the next chapter. I just really wanted to post something, other wise I might stagnate and that wouldn't be good.
I very nearly introduced (the future) Team 7 in this chapter. But naaaaah. I don't believe in coincidences and Natsu isn't looking for them. She's actively avoiding any hint of a person she recognizes, and isn't exactly seeking out friends. She was supposed to be a little ray of sunshine who makes friends and loves people when I designed her. Instead she's sort of super emotionally unstable, very over-trusting, and over confident. At least her strengths and flaws are becoming more clear to you.
Anyways, feedback from my readers is, as always, really helpful and motivational. You guys really make my day! For this chapter I am encouraging anyone to feel free and drop off Delta verse changes you would be interested in seeing. What do you think is different other then the Hokages? What do you think is the same?
Over and Out,
Plouton