Yay! Now it's enter Takeshi-time! You might see the radical 180* in his character and be distrustful as to whether he's the same person. Well, what can I say? He was drunk. Alcohol does that to people.
Chapter 3: Sunset
Takeshi looked sourly at the figure sitting backwards in the single hospital chair. The Hokage had shrugged off regality like an old robe, and now sat leaning against the back with a hand propping up his chin. It was too much.
"You expect me to take care of him?"
Sarutobi shrugged.
"Well, yes."
"Why?"
"For the same reasons I asked you then. You've had a decade to get used to the idea, Take, it—"
"No."
It came softly, nudging the old man's words off track.
"Why the pretense, Sarutobi? If I knew you'd be this petty, I would have taken up the boy. What I did jarred with the rest of your master plan, so you left him out to dry." His voice grew bitter, the anger rising up in him an old comfort.
"You think too much of yourself, Take." The voice of the Hokage was level, measured. "I kept Naruto as a ward for the same reason I asked no one else to raise him. I don't need another happy family in Konoha. I don't need another civilian or another shinobi to fill the ranks. As long as he is his father's son, illegitimate or not, I have uses for him." He paused. "You were his father's keeper. Now I simply ask you to be his."
It opened raw wounds he thought he'd long closed, and from the look of the other man sprawled out on the bed, Takeshi hadn't fared much better.
There was silence in the room. The birds chirped cheerily outside the open window, and the gentle background murmur of Konoha filled up the void of harsh words. Sarutobi rubbed his chin across the cool, smooth surface of the chair back. Takeshi fingered the warm cloth of the bedsheets beneath him.
"Not him."
"If not him, then who?"
"Me."
Sarutobi met his gaze. Liquid blue eyes faced him down cooly. He nodded. It was a concession.
Takeshi shifted, stretching out his body against the full length of the bed. His hands were tucked neatly under his head as he watched Sarutobi stare back at him.
"I'll take care of him for awhile."
The Hokage's stern visage shifted into a happy grin.
Takeshi refused to match the smile.
"I know your tricks, Tobi. If I suspect you've been planting ideas in his head behind my back, I'll make a mess and run away. And I'll take him with me."
He paused.
"You still remember the last time I did that? Made a mess, I mean?"
Sarutobi nodded ruefully. "Took us half a week to calm you down."
It was as if something sibilant had entered the room. Something primal and dispassionate that leeched out the vibrant color of the flowers by the bedside, and the high blue tone of the sky out the window. The sunlight slanting into the slowly darkening room made Sarutobi shiver unreasonably in the contrasting shade.
He recognized the displacement training, but it still sent a faint shudder up the base of his spine.
"That was me being prissy."
"…"
"You don't want to see me pissed."
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
The wind stroked the higher altitudes, setting the wires and support cables to skip among the erratic leaves in greens and yellows. Naruto sat tucked away in a small shelf made by the boundary of three different buildings. It said something about the spirit of individuality in Konoha, or the deteriorating standards of architects, his little pigeonhole. The warehouse on the north side was a granary constructed according to the parameters of the guild of Commerce—it had a certain height. The southeastern compound rose imposingly as a rather chic new apartment complex— it wrapped itself around the corner of the warehouse and fell a few feet short from leveling out with the top of the granary. The building to the west was the administrative headquarters of the Uchiha Police—out of all three structures, this one had the most odds and ends on its roof. Technically, it was the shortest of the three, making up in basements what it lacked in height. But where it met the other two, the station had a large stone ledge protruding out of its top. It allegedly helped funnel off the rainwater to prevent erosion of the roof in the long run, but really, it raised the ceiling of the chief inspector's office underneath. Fugaku liked his perks.
All this combined to create a comfortable niche perfect for small critters, pigeon nests, and Naruto. Over the years, he stored up a collection of odds and ends on the shelves, simply planks set on protruding brickwork of the apartment building. The lowest one held a rolled up futon he'd saved up for a few years ago. It was a bit tattered at the edges now, but the stuffing held and that was all Naruto wanted out of a futon anyway.
It was kinda his home away from home. And it commanded a killer angle at sunset, when Naruto dangled his legs off the warehouse roof and watched the gold melt away from the mountain of sculptures and the thin grove of trees above.
He sat there now on his rolled out futon. In his little pit, he thought ruefully.
He sighed, gently bumped his head back against the wall.
A new caretaker.
It wasn't that he didn't like Takeshi. The guy was nice, one of the few people who didn't treat children one way, and adults another. And he'd help bandage up that wound.
Naruto rubbed absently at the cloth wrapped around his arm.
And Saru-man knew him too. That was a big point in Takeshi's favor, as far as Naruto was concerned.
But…
He was used to being alone, he guessed. That was all there was to it.
Well, and that the guy who nearly shot him with the crossbow actually turned out to be someone Saru-man knew, and apparently respected, enough at least to assign Takeshi the duty of watching over Naruto. Too sudden. Too… planned?
That was it, maybe. Watching over. He didn't want anyone to hold anything over him.
He'll talk it over with Saru-man, that's the thing to do.
He'd been numbly ushered out the office by an amused Tsume with the Hokage's personal reassurance that Naruto needn't worry, Takeshi'd find him. It hadn't made him feel any better. Dinner at Inuzuka's had been thoughtful and quiet, and he'd quit the table early in favor of wandering over to his hidey hole.
The sky was darkening outside.
An interesting character, this Takeshi. Naruto twisted his body down to reach the second shelf, and pulled out a brown, cardboard box. Placing it in his lap, he carefully laid out each item from the box next to him on the ledge.
He'll have to test out the guy.
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
It was night, and the muted glow of city lights made all the corners soft and all the streets dreamy.
That was why Takeshi chose to take to the roofs. It held cold cut clarity, it was all steel and sharp edges, where the light couldn't penetrate.
Kinda like him.
He'd tossed the restrictive hospital gown and grudgingly accepted the set Sarutobi picked out for him. Admittedly, that was just him being sullen. A bit of residue hostility from the argument.
Nice leather jacket for the cool weather, loose, comfortable pants. No weapons. He had arched his brows at that, but gave in to the Hokage's admonishing tone.
Sarutobi had sternly said, "You're the weapon, Take. And I'm not gonna divert half the service funds to outfit you again. Go find a spoon or something."
So he found a spoon. He'd broken off the top and scraped it halfheartedly against the edge of a concrete building. It was sharp at least, enough slide in somewhere unprotected.
Then he had snorted, and tossed it in the gutter.
Fuck spoons. Fuck Sarutobi.
He was gonna find Naruto, and then he was gonna go buy himself some real weapons. And find an apartment. And a job, nominally at least. He sighed. This was why he hated settling down.
Which brought him to the roof of the Uchiha Police station.
Nothing to do with his superb tracking skills, really. He'd made a stop beforehand at the Inuzuka compound.
Tsume had given him one look, and said "Top of the Uchiha station. Behind the ledge." Then she had rummaged around in the cupboards and brought out a lacquered bento box. She'd shoved it pointedly against his chest, met his eyes squarely.
"This is for the little guy. Open it and I'll kill you, to hell what Sarutobi thinks." Takeshi had gotten the message.
Touch Naruto, and he'd been at the receiving end of two hundred pounds of claws and fang.
Korumaru had rumbled to underscore the point.
Takeshi sighed.
Tsume was hot when she got angry. But Takeshi wouldn't be able to exploit that if she was angry at him.
He rubbed the stubble on his chin, took a moment to look over his surroundings. Broadcast poles, a few round chimneys, and that big hulking block of concrete at the back.
He walked cautiously over to the stone ledge and knocked his knuckles against a severed steel pipe jutting out the side. It clanked.
"Naruto? Naruto, yo? It's me, uh, Takeshi. The Hokage, what is it now, the Third one? Yeah, him, he, uh, you know…" He trailed off, and stood looking blankly at the concrete for a bit.
He turned around and set his hands on top of the ledge, hopping up into a seated position.
"I, uh, know how to cook ok. See? I made this bento for you." He gestured with the bento box in his left hand. "It smells great, right? You're probably hungry now, so if you want some, I wouldn't mind sharing, ok?"
The box was set gently on the ledge, and slid across the shadowed length of the block—
It disappeared, followed by a crash.
The sound of a bento box smashing.
Takeshi cursed. It was a soldier's curse, a quick 'Fuck,' followed by three deep breaths. Right. Behind the ledge. In the hole. That had better not have fallen on Naruto's head, or he'd been responsible twice that day—
Something invisible split the air, and Takeshi was moving before he could understand why. He heard the brickwork on the ledge go, chunks blown out- it sounded like a sudden, heavy burst of hail. Something yelped, and a body tumbled past him, dimly sensed. He grunted as he hit the ground, a moment strung out as his hand shot out and latched on to something warm. Screams. He ignored them, and was smearing himself on top of Naruto, casting about for the threat.
It grew silent.
A shattered piece of pipe detached from somewhere above and clattered to rest against the roof.
His breaths were coming out shallow, quick. He squinted hard, trying to squeeze detail from his whitened vision, but could not make out any movement in the surrounding shadows.
Shouts coming from below.
He heaved himself up, slung the body across his shoulders—noted the muted yelp as his shoulder-blade dug into stomach muscles. He took a running start, at an angle toward the gray and black streaked ledge.
The roof opened out against the apartment building in a closed off alley down half the length of the station, and Takeshi took the jump in stride, landed on controlled impact against the side of the apartment wall, almost graceful. He scrabbled for purchase on the protruding bricks and found the slippery glass of a window.
The boy went in first, body easily collapsing through the frosted glass, and he followed headlong. Stopped short of falling from the hand clenched around his ankle. Takeshi drew himself up in a seat on the window ledge and hacked down savagely with an elbow. The hand went abruptly limp.
He swung his leg back in, sliding smoothly into a run. Paused at the door.
Swerved.
He scooped up the bundle of arms and legs, and was out the door.
...
...
Next Chap:
"Who, in the FUCK, gave you explosive tags to play with?"
...
...
...
AN:/
Hmm. I just realized I've been writing a "Naruto raised by Super OC" fic, which makes it sound horribly retarded.
Only way to solve that is by trashing it and starting over, but I kinda like where this is going.
For now, that's good enough for me.
So, err… Do you guys like where this is going? Talk to me.
....
Review
....