Vendetta

Rating: T for heavy language, most likely M later for language.

Disclaimer: No, I do not own Naruto. And this will be the only time I say it too.

Chapter 2 – Flowers

I eyed the muffin sadly. So close yet so far. Heaving out a large sigh, I said to Sakura, "Let me get this straight: you saw Namikaze Arashi?" She nodded. "When?" God, this could turn into a big mess if it goes wrong.

"Um . . . remember the time I went to Kumo as a vacation with my parents?" she asked, waiting for my nod before continuing, "Well, I saw this guy with blond hair and blue eyes that looked so much like the Yondaime. I didn't think much of it since Kumo has plenty of blonds, but later even my dad—my clueless dad—thought that it was a younger Yondaime."

Wow. I never thought I would have a look alike in Kumo of all places. Then again, Sakura was right: they did have a lot of blonds there, but someone who could pass as the old man? Must've been one strange looking guy then. "Is that so? Did he fit the age? 'Cause Yondaime's son would be around our age."

Sakura paused, nose scrunching as she thought back. The vacation had been about three years ago, so her memories were probably foggy—especially since she said that had been her first time with alcohol as well. "I was about fourteen . . . he looked around . . . ten," she said lamely, blushing slightly. "Sorry, I got worked up over nothing."

"S'okay," I said, turning my attention back to the muffin . . . only to have Sakura steal it and place it on her tray. "Sakura! Gimme!"

She laughed and stuck out her tongue before cutting me in line. Grumbling, I grabbed a different muffin—but it wasn't my muffin—and followed her, pausing only to get some soda and to pay. "Ne, Sakura-chan," I whined, "can't I get the muffin back? Please?"

"No."

"Why?"

"'Cause I want this muffin," she said flatly, sitting down at a table. For once, I sat with her, though I seriously considered moving when I realized that I had a perfect view of Kiba and his new 'friend'.

It's not like I haven't kissed girls before—hell, I had my first kiss at fourteen with an eighteen year old blonde that could probably rival Tsunade-baba in chest. Granted she had been inebriated at the time, but it counted since she didn't have a problem with it later. I'm no player like Kiba or Shika, but yeah, when I go on a vacation with my parents, I generally meet a girl, make-out with her during said vacation and come home without a number. On purpose. Relations, unless they're political, rarely ever last. My parents are a rare exception. And so are my friends' parents . . . and some other people . . . okay, so there are a lot of exceptions, but most of the time it doesn't work out that well, and I for one don't plan on living my life in a pointless marriage. At least political ones mean something.

But geez, Kiba and Shika . . . well, both are in it for the sex, I know that, but do they have to do it so openly? Oh wait, Kiba just left with his friend. He'll be back for nin class with messier hair than usual and lipstick on his nether regions, not that we'd be able to see it but it's probably still true. I feel truly sorry for the girl they get saddled with when their clan duties come into play; that girl will be putting up with guys that chase anything with a skirt. Though hopefully, they'll be a bit better behaved by then.

For once, I didn't feel like eating my muffin and only chugged down the soda in record time, leaving after a quick bye to Sakura and before Ino and Shika came to the table. I needed to talk to someone, and the best person to talk to who understood girls without being my mom was—

"Obito-nii," I said, grinning at the goggle-wearing man who was trying to steal Kakashi's books that were locked in the pervert's desk.

"Obito-sensei," he corrected while ruffling my hair. I let him; this was one man I saw as more of a father than my own. "What do you need brat?"

"Answers," I replied, poking at the desk drawer. "Do you think it's wrong for a guy to not give a girl a chance even if they've known said girl for five years and know that it won't work out?"

He didn't answer for a while, concentrating on picking the lock on the desk drawer. When it clanged to the floor and he had successfully hidden the books, he said, "You're talking about Hinata, right?" At my annoyed look, he laughed. "Everyone knows Naruto. Anyway . . . I'd have to say if you've known her for years, then you shouldn't have to. But you never know, maybe you missed out on something that was right under your nose the whole time." Obito-nii smiled at me. "My suggestion? Give her a chance, even if it's only to eat ramen or something."

Sighing, I conceded, "Alright, alright. I'll ask her out to ramen, but when I realize I don't want to date her—and I don't—she'll be heartbroken and Shino will break me."

I watched blankly as Obito-nii laughed as he locked the door to Kakashi's room, just like how it had been before he broke in. After we were about halfway to the cafeteria, he regained himself enough to speak. "Listen kid, it's not your fault you don't like her. I'm hoping you do, or at least consider her or one of your other friends, but in the end it's your choice. They'll just be mad if you upset her."

"And I will when she learns I don't like her," I said darkly. Sighing again, I ran a hair through my blond hair. "Thanks anyway, Obito-nii. I'll see you in nin class."

"Hope it helps," he called after me as I roamed around the halls, sneaking peaks into some classrooms that were still in session. Hinata . . . geez, that girl would be the death of me—literally. I knew for a fact that I didn't like her, or Ino, or Tenten, or Sakura, or any of the girls in this school. None. There is no girl my age that will catch my eye. Ever. Well . . . there was that one girl in Suna (though she's still three years older than me) . . . the one whose brother was nearly as unstable as Sasuke-teme and whose other brother liked playing with dolls and makeup. And she had been the Kazekage's daughter . . . meaning that if my mom ever got word of it, I'd be engaged before I could say, "Huh?" . . . though my dad would probably be against it. He doesn't like the idea of other kage's children marrying their counterparts.

Shaking my head to get rid of all these stupid thoughts, I leaned against a white wall and sank my hands into my hair. When I was told that I was leaving Uzu—which will and always will be my first home—I didn't think that a life without people knowing about my dad would be so . . . so complicated. The main reason I agreed to it in the first place—not that I had much of a choice—was because I thought that people would quit being nice to me because of what my name was. Then I come here, and it's the same problem though this time it's a girl that's getting under my skin—and she wasn't even doing anything!

I stood like that for a while, moving only towards the gym once the bell had rung and people were either pouring out of the cafeteria or going in. As I walked past a familiar janitor's closet, Kiba came out with messy hair and a grinning redhead. Rolling my eyes, I grabbed him by his collar before he went for another round.

"He'll be back later," I said to the now pouting redhead as I continued to drag Kiba along. Once we were out of earshot, I raised an eyebrow at the brunette. "So . . . what did you do to make her smile like that?"

"Tried something new that Ino told me about. Didn't think it would work that well," Kiba answered while stretching his hands above his head. "She was pretty good; can't believe I didn't notice her before."

"That's because she's a sophomore," I said dryly. "Anyway, I need to talk to you about Hinata." Kiba tensed and eyed me warily. "Look, I know that she likes me; problem is, I don't like her, and if I tell her that, then both you and Shino will murder me, so unless you want me to date her out of pity—"

Kiba snorted, shoving me lightly. "Like you'd do that. And about Hinata . . . she's like our sister, y'know? Me and Shino were just hoping that you'd like her in time, but you haven't, so maybe it'd be best for you to let her down. I can't promise that I won't kill you though, especially if you do something to make her hurt more than necessary."

Now that I could do, and quite easily. Though it's a good thing the only classes I socialize with them is in the first three, or otherwise the tension would have been quite . . . thick. "Deal," I agreed, pressing my back against the gym doors to open them. "Today's ninjutsu right?"

"Yeah. We'll probably pair up—and you're my partner," he threw in quickly before I could get another word it. "I wanna practice my Tsuuga (1) against multiple opponents and your clones are perfect for the job."

"So I'm essentially a punching bag," I noted, taking a seat in the far back row of bleachers with Kiba taking the one to my right.

"Basically."

Cruel, oh so cruel Kiba. I rolled my eyes and was about to retort when Obito-nii and Gai-sensei—who was wearing entirely black instead of his customary green—came out of their respective offices. Obito-nii was holding a bullhorn to his mouth and yelled, "Settle down!" It took a few moments for everyone to do as they were told and once they had, Obito-nii continued.

"As you know, today is the anniversary of the Kumo-Konoha war, so today instead of the usual lesson we will be heading to the memorial stone in training ground 7. Come on, everyone up!"

Groaning with veiled gratefulness, the entirety of the afternoon nin class—consisting of the seniors and juniors—got off the bleachers and followed Obito-nii outside where training ground 7 awaited. Kiba and I were among the last to leave as we had been on the top of the bleachers, and I could tell the dog-nin clearly didn't want to be here at all. Honestly, I had been a bit surprised that his mom had allowed him to go to school today; his dad had been one of the casualties in the war after all.

I remembered Kiba's dad, even if I had only seen him once during a trip to Konoha when I was five, just before the final treaty was signed. He was a funny man who lived to make people laugh. The next time I saw him was at his funeral; I met Kiba, his sister and mom for the first time then too. 'Course, Kiba thought that I was Arashi and not Naruto so that's one thing I've kept to myself.

"You alright?" I asked, joining the very long line to see the memorial stone.

"Hn," Kiba grunted, stopping next to me.

Well, this explains why he was so adamant on getting some stuff with that redhead . . . and maybe that blonde. Sex is a pretty good release, and Kiba needs a lot of that today. True, it wasn't the day his dad died exactly, but it was the day everyone in Konoha would mourn. And it's the only day the shinobi are allowed to mourn. Rule number twenty five: shinobi don't show their emotions. Konoha doesn't really abide by that rule—hell, the current Hokage should tell you that—but today, shinobi are allowed to ignore that rule. So for once, I kept my sardonic comments to myself. I sure as hell didn't want to get beat up by some pissed off dude whose friend was killed or something. You never know if that person might be a jounin who could kick your ass from here to Iwa.

One by one, people paid their respects and soon enough—though it was a bit too soon for me—it was my turn at the memorial stone. I stood there awkwardly for a moment and said thank you to all of those that had died before stepping to the side to let Kiba have his time. No one I knew died in the Kumo-Konoha war since I was in Uzu for most of it. The only time I had been here in Konoha was for a treaty-signing meeting; the same that my dad had nearly crashed even though he technically was hosting it.

I shook my head as Kiba finished and began walking back to the school. Huh . . . if today was the anniversary, then would we get out early? I nearly started drooling at the thought. It wasn't that I hated school, but it just annoyed the crap out of me since I know people my age who're already ANBU captains or jounins. The guy Sakura is in infatuated with is like a year older than us and he's a freaking jounin. My old man says it's because Konoha loses a lot of young shinobi. Twelve and eighteen . . . there's not that much of a difference. For example: at twelve, Sasuke was an emotionally challenged boy. At seventeen, he's still an emotionally challenged boy.

"Naruto." I tilted my head to the side where Obito-nii was standing. "Class gets out early today . . . you're the only one still here."

" . . . Ah . . ." I grinned sheepishly though inwardly I was jumping for joy. "Sorry, kinda lost in my thoughts."

Obito-nii didn't say anything about that—I don't really space out that often, so I probably freaked him out a bit—but he did say quietly, "Your mom said that she wanted to see you once school let out. I'd suggest you'd go; you know how your dad gets sometimes . . ." he trailed off awkwardly. Dad was Obito-nii's sensei when was a genin, so talking about him negatively when you had literally worshiped the ground they walked on was pretty . . . strange. Even if they did deserve it.

"Well, I'll be going then," I said with a false grin that Obito-nii saw through within seconds, though he chose not to comment on it. "Later, Obito-sensei." The chances of any student eavesdropping was like less than zero, but mom and Kakashi-nii always tell me to be careful in school about which honorifics I use. I mentally shrugged and began the trek back to my parents' place, taking off into the trees of training ground 7. Mom lives in the Hokage's house—more like palace—so I have to be pretty careful of who sees me going in. Of course, I could just laugh it off and say I'm visiting one of my relatives, but this way is less . . . agonizing. White lies can quickly transform into very annoying dilemmas. Believe me, I should know.

The one time that happened to me . . . I wound up moving out. Just one little lie to my dad about why I was late for curfew and it turned into this huge mess that ended with one argument that made me pack up and leave. It was also the one time I've ever seen my mom cry, other than the time my Grandpa said she cried when I had to leave for Uzu. Other than that, I don't regret what happened. My dad and me . . . jeez, we argue about anything and everything. He hates Grandpa, I know, because according to my mom, I was like a mini-him when I was two, then I left for Uzu and I just changed. 'Course, only seeing your child once or twice a year for a decade tends to make that child resent you a bit.

I never hated my mom though. Not even now as I walk past the ANBU guards to meet her. She—it was never her fault that I had to leave, or that my dad can't stand me because I'm not a blond airhead with more lungs than brain. For that matter, I don't hate my dad either. I just . . . get tired of him very quickly. Like now, for instance.

" . . . Could you repeat that?" I rubbed the bridge of my nose as I stared at my parents. On my left there's my beautiful redheaded mother, and on my right is my blond father who, I'm sad to say, is who I take after the most in the looks department.

"The council wants you to get married," my father repeated. "Once you're of appropriate age, of course. To continue the Namikaze line."

"So I'm a male baby machine?" I asked dryly.

"No, not like that," mom murmured. I flinched at the bags under her eyes. "We—Naruto, they just need assurance that your father's line will continue and getting you engaged will give them some relief."

At times like these, I just so want to spit out something sarcastic but I kept my tongue in check, not so much for my dad, but my mom. She knew people who died in the war; plus, she hasn't been sleeping well at all. It's been like that ever since I moved out, though it was much worse when I still lived here. "Fine, do what you want. Just don't get me some idiotic girl." I looked pointedly at my father. "Actually, get me a kunoichi. A strong one. Chuunin or higher."

Around then, dad kinda . . . snapped.

"Do you know what you're asking?" he hissed, ignoring mom's attempt to placate everyone. I really don't care anymore. "You'll get engaged to a foreign girl to strengthen relationships—most likely a daimyou's daughter. No kage would let their daughter marry another kage's son!"

"Could I take the daimyou's wife instead?" I questioned, an innocent look crossing my features. "See, a daimyou's daughter would be so naïve, y'know? Plus, the wife would have experience."

"Naruto!" my mother exclaimed, flushed.

"I'm a guy mom, get used to it," I said flatly. "Look, I won't make a fuss about who you make me marry as long as she's a chuunin or higher," I repeated. "That's all I want. Take it or leave it, because you know as well as I do that I can just get up and leave and make heirs some other place."

There was a pregnant pause, during which I leaned back in the leather chair I was seated in. I would carry out on my threat if they brought back some airhead girl who couldn't count to ten, or some dumb heiress that had never lifted a finger. Kunoichi at least were a) hot because they constantly kept themselves fit, and b) smart, or they wouldn't have become ninja in the first place. At any rate, dad shouldn't be so pissed about it; mom's an elite jounin and was the heir to the Uzumaki clan in Uzu, and she still got married to dad even though he was a Konoha nin. Was my request that horrible? What they did was even worse . . . heh, mom and dad nearly eloped. Actually, they did and then got remarried properly in Konoha. Who knows, I might take a leaf out of their book someday.

While I was off in my thoughts, mom and dad were quietly muttering to each other. Mom was trying to be the peacemaker; she was probably talking about their own past to get dad to calm down. I rolled my eyes. The man's the Hokage for crying out loud; things like these aren't petty matters to him, no, they have to be handled with the utmost delicacy.

"Well, I've said all that I need to say, so I'll be off. Get some sleep mom," I added as I got up and headed to the door. "And please, hesitate to call."

Surprisingly enough, neither man nor woman said anything as I left other than my mom murmuring a goodbye. Well, if being forceful would have gotten dad off my back that easily, I would have done it a long time ago.

Ignoring the guards outside—well, they ignore me too so it doesn't really matter—I wandered to Konoha's market district. It sucked sometimes, to realize that you couldn't talk to your friends about some of your problems because you had a different life than the one they were accustomed to. Sure, there was Obito-nii, but he's almost like an older cousin or uncle that's not that far from your age. If I could, I would talk to Shino or Shikamaru about it, since as the heirs, they need to get married, but neither really . . . care about those things. I guess as teenagers, they don't have to worry.

And I am so envious of them. I sighed and looked around. Well, I'm in the market district at least . . . though it's more like I'm right in front of the Yamanaka's flower shop.

Ino's shop is a place I don't visit. Why? Because, getting flowers means a girl, and a girl means a date, and a date in my life means that Ino would be all over it. Literally. She'd probably spy on it too. That girl is just too curious.

At the very least, I could get mom some flowers to make up for my 'disobedience' and 'outright disrespect', or something like that. Steeling my resolve and preparing my mind for the onslaught I knew would come; I pushed the door open, wincing at the bells that announced my arrival.

"Naruto! Well, well, here's something you don't see everyday!"

Yep, that was Ino behind the counter. If the blonde hair didn't give it away, then the sheer loudness of her voice would have.

"Hi, Ino," I said dully, shuffling awkwardly from one foot to another.

She grinned cheekily. "So . . . are you here to get flowers for a certain someone?"

. . . It wouldn't hurt to mess with her, would it?

"Mm." I walked over to where the carnations where, aware of Ino following my every move with a hawkish gaze. As a little boy, I wanted to play outside and wrestle with the other kids; my grandfather had other ideas. He made me sit through lessons—about flowers of all things; according to him, flowers could be used to pass along messages (I still have doubts about that). I probably have a better understanding of the flora language than other guys, but the Yamanaka's shop is overflowing with flowers . . . best to go with what I know then; I won't ask Ino for help, she'd want to know the whole story.

Exhaling sharply, I reached down and plucked out a single cut purple carnation. Then out came a Coreopsis, followed by a thistle. Sure, it wouldn't be the most . . . comely looking bouquet, but it would get the message across. I shrugged and took the three flowers to Ino.

"Whimsical for the carnation, always cheerful for the Coreopsis, and nobility for the thistle." She raised an eyebrow. "Weird choices, Naruto. Are you describing the girl or what?"

"It's not for a . . . girl," I corrected. "And the person will know what I'm talking about." Hopefully.

Strangely, she didn't jump to the conclusion that I was picking out flowers for a guy—I had a baby barf at the thought—but her eyes lit up. "Ah ha! So our Naruto is into older girls!"

Technically, that wasn't so far off from the truth. That Suna chick was three years older than me and that blonde I kissed was four years older, but hey, older girls are generally taller, and I like tall girls. "Kinda . . . but it's for a person I think of as a mom, Ino. So could you ring them up? I need to go somewhere," I prodded.

"I'll get to the bottom of this, Naruto!" she vowed with a serious expression, though that quickly changed when I paid her extra. "Have a nice day! And I will find out, Naruto! Mark my words!"

"Yeah, yeah," I mumbled as I walked out of the store and into the heat outside. Air conditioning was a blessing; if only they could put a couple thousand outside too. "Now . . ." I fumbled about in my back pocket and pulled out a small scroll with the picture of a small toad on it. Once I was safely in the shade of a tree about ten meters away from the flower shop's front doors, I unrolled it and bit my thumb, drawing out a thin stream of blood. "Kuchiyose no jutsu (2)!"

With a small poof of white smoke, a tiny orange frog emerged, wildly looking from the left to the right. I smiled. "Yo, 'Kichi." Jiraiya, after much blackmailing and whining on my part, allowed me to sign the toad contract when I was fourteen. So far, the only one I summon on a semi-regular basis is Kichi and sometimes his brother. "Do me a favor?"

"You know the drill, Naruto. Candy!" The little orange frog held out his hand, staring at me resolutely.

"You need to grow out of this stage," I muttered, but nonetheless handed him some sweet thing that had been in my pocket for decades. "Now, take these flowers to mom, would you?"

"I'm not a delivery service," he grumbled around the toffee, but he took the proffered flowers anyway. "Later, Naruto!"

Once he was gone, I rubbed the back of my head sheepishly and looked behind me. "You done hiding yet, Sasuke?"

The Uchiha heir came out from behind a tree, that familiar smirk adorning his features. "Dobe. Nice trick . . . you haven't shown that one before."

First Sakura almost gave me a heart attack by saying she figured out my secret. Now, Sasuke will wonder why the hell I know one of the Yondaime's jutsus. Crappy doodle cakes.

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1 Tsuuga – Piercing Fang – variation of 'Gatsuuga' that does not require Akamaru.

2 Kuchiyose no jutsu – Summoning Jutsu – summons either an animal or inanimate object; needs a blood sacrifice.

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AN : So . . . not much to say here, 'cept review, as always. Thanks to that stats page, I've got a pretty good idea of who clicks where and who alerts. One thing though; the flower language I used isn't ikebana. It's the language of flowers sometimes called floriography. Oh—to anyone who's up-to-date with the manga . . . Sasuke's finally getting his ass kicked.