Date written: 29/05/11 – 11/06/11

Posted on FanFiction: 11/06/11

A/N: It's a raging quadruple eleven, guys. Don't get it? Let me clarify: I've finished and published Chapter 11 on the 11th of June in the year 2011. Yeah, I have nothing better to do after writing this, so I just point out what first came to mind. Problem? *Insert troll face*

–– CHAPTER 11 ––

The Fate of Naruto Uzumaki

When Naruto's mind awoken in its most plausible action in regards to the events pertaining to his loss of consciousness, he sat up with a scream. Dilated eyes unsuited to the mild glare coming from the fire in the bonfire, he closed them as quickly as when he opened them, which was then followed with a pained grunt. The pain in his chest, the pain in his eyes, the muscles in his arms and back protesting with such force that even the bones were joining in on tormenting him. Not one of them, however, could beat the pulsing piece of oblivion piercing his head called a migraine. He hadn't woken up feeling like shit since he had gone on a drinking spree with the other guys from the Rookie Nine, and he still thought that it was a great night to remember if he hadn't experienced a long blackout from the time he took a long swig from a bottle of imported liquor to the time he woke up pants-less on top a roof smelling like a woman in heat who was satiated.

He breathed deeply through his nose, entering and exiting. With the headache inducing another wave of pain into his innocent brain, his hands went out to try and nurse it with a soothing massage, although that'd help as much as planting a rock in soil and hope it'd grow into a tree. With nothing to support his torso from falling back onto the futon under him, he did so with much of his attention centered on the migraine. A loud groan escaped his lips, and it wouldn't be for another three minutes—the time it took for him to get used to the shattering pain—that he'd consider checking his surroundings. Naruto was at least certain there was a fire, and whoever made that fire wasn't him.

Just what happened to me?

His answer came in soft articulations of thought into visions projecting within his mentality. He remembered the white monsters—funny that he couldn't recall the physical details of the creatures, as if that part of his memory had been erased—and even the shack. The memory of being stabbed twice had come after reconstructing most of the events that played out before, and now he had a reason for why he was feeling so much like shit.

Naruto wanted to get up and find some answers—'Why haven't I died?' being the top question on his mind right now—but his body wouldn't let him. Whenever he'd try to sit back up, he couldn't find the strength to maintain balance and minimize the shaking of his arms. After two more attempts, he exhausted most of the energy stored in his system. Sleep was once more claiming him and its grip was too strong and large for his weakened state to counter. No matter how much he wanted to stay awake, his body had its own agendas and when it wanted sleep, it got sleep.

The next time his mind awoke, the splitting migraine diminished to a light buzz annoying the side of his head, the bandages on his torso (which he hadn't noticed the first time he awoke) felt like they were freshly wrapped around him, and the muscles in his arms felt stronger. He sat up, bones and muscles still protesting but their ferocity had become more tolerable, and squinted his eyes at the fire. He moved his sight away quickly lest his night vision were to disappear. Other than the fire and the futon he had been lying on, the room he was less detailed or, to be more precise, not detailed at all. Darkness loomed almost like shadowy veils shrouding him in a dome-shaped prison. It made him feel like a caged bird during lights out where a curtain was draped over the whole cage to simulate night. The sense of isolation gripped his being, and if not for the fire, the unrelenting darkness might have gotten to him.

The feeling in his legs was responsive and he tested them out. His knees braced his weight when he kneeled, and his feet became burdened with the weight when he stood straight. Although he felt a little wobbly—drunk and experiencing a hangover seemed the best explanation . . . if he really did drink vast amounts of alcohol in the past 24 hours—he stayed on his two feet. His ears immediately picked up a foreign sound coming from somewhere, but unsure of the origin due to the echoes. There was movement from his left, his eyes tracing the person before they had come out of the darkness completely. It was a man, six feet in height, with red hair cascading down his head to the level of his chin. He was garbed in a black cloak with silver tomoe earrings and, though it was a little obscured from the high collar, a necklace with silver tomoe as well.

Even from afar, Naruto could already feel some kind of hidden power from the man. Not enough to set off warning bells, but he still had to be wary. He doubted this place was outside the inner mindscape, so this person might turn hostile like those . . . those . . . like those what? What was he referring to? He knew he had been thinking about whatever-it-was before, when he first woke up in this place, but for the life of him he couldn't even remember the tiniest knowledge about them—as if they had been erased from his mentality.

A mind wipe?

It didn't seem far off. And he already had a suspect to accuse.

"It's good that you are awake," the redheaded man said, strolling out of the darkness. "I was worried for a moment that you wouldn't pull through, but it seemed that I have underestimated your potential, as many of your enemies have done in the past."

"Where am I?" Naruto asked. It was the very basic question and most often the first thing to ask when plunged into a situation like this, but the way the redhead was looking at him seemed as if he should've known this beforehand. Naruto didn't understand why.

The redhead walked close to the bonfire, where a small log lay just behind the fire from Naruto's position. He sat down slowly, like an old man awaiting the inevitable spinal crack to resound, and intertwined his fingers next to his chest.

"Before I answer your question, Naruto Uzumaki," he said, "you must, first, answer a question of my own. Fair?"

Grimly, Naruto nodded his agreement.

"What have you accomplished in life?"

Hesitating at the unexpected question, yet urging himself to answer it anyway, Naruto replied, "I saved the world from a maniac's plan for world domination."

"Ah, yes, Madara's Moon's Eye Plan." He nodded twice. "He seeks peace, but his methods do not coincide with his intent."

"I've answered your question, now answer mine."

"Very well. You are in the Sanctuary, Naruto Uzumaki. A sanctuary I have created long ago."

Naruto looked at the dome of blackness surrounding them. He liked to remark on how this could be regarded as a sanctuary, but he kept his silence. Even now, that sense of shrouded power so exponentially volatile and dangerous loomed over the cloaked man. Fear coursed in his veins, though they held little sway in his decision to not run his mouth. He needed more answers, and to get those answers he had to play with the man's rules, he wouldn't say questions that had little for him to gain other than useless information.

"Okay, my next question," Naruto said, "Who are you?"

The man separated his joined hands, dropping one while raising the other, with one finger pointed upwards. There was nothing above him, but Naruto already knew that. The finger moved and stopped till it pointed to the empty spot beside his seat on the log. The man smiled at Naruto.

"You're a guest, Naruto Uzumaki, and so I must retain etiquette and offer you a seat."

"No thanks," Naruto replied immediately. A closer proximity meant more vulnerability, and Naruto was unsure if this referred to him or the man.

"No, no, I insist. It must be uncomfortable for you to stand yet."

He was right, and Naruto damned him for it. His legs were already on the verge of collapse, and exhaustion was seeping his energy faster than he dared to estimate. At the rate this was going, he might end up falling on his butt in the middle of their conversation. But there was still that rebellious side of him that wanted him to stay strong and reject the offer once more.

"You cannot refuse this, Naruto Uzumaki." That sense of finality tipped the scales on his decision. It was the only choice for him to move forward, after all.

He took his seat with trepidation, steering his eyes away from the fire—he didn't like the look of it, for some reason. Instead, he observed this mysterious character, while producing a safe amount of distance between them on this short hollow log. His eyes were wrapped in a crimson-colored bandage, blending well with his crimson locks that he was unsurprised he hadn't seen it the first time, much like how he hadn't seen this log before the man sat on it.

There was a note of familiarity about him, but Naruto couldn't pinpoint it. If he had known him in his past life, he must've been unimportant. He had a way with faces, but trying to recall where he saw the man's face was too difficult.

"My question before yours, Naruto Uzumaki."

Naruto was starting to hate how he was addressing him. It sounded too much like a certain egomaniac from a shounen manga he had read when he was a kid.

"Go ahead," he answered, doing his best to keep civility in his tone, but the lopsided smile on the man's face hinted at him already knowing Naruto's agitation.

"What were you trying to accomplish in the new world you entered?"

Whoever this man was, he was well-informed. Not only in his involvement in stopping Madara, but also his traversing into Kiiro-Naruto's world, the man knew.

"Truthfully, nothing of real importance," he answered honestly. "If Madara also exists in that world, I'll help my counterpart in every way I can."

"Your last help ended with the Kyuubi breaking from its cage."

His eye-twitched. "Yeah, yeah, I screwed up. Sheez, no one will live that down, huh."

"Oh I doubt that, Naruto Uzumaki, seeing that the only people who know of your meddling are me, your father, and that sheep you conjured in little Naruto Uzumaki's mind."

Naruto opened his mouth for a retort.

"But he's not your real father, is he?" the man interrupted, to which Naruto didn't bother answering; he knew a rhetorical question when he heard it, even when there was no sarcasm in his tone. "Your father died twenty-two years ago, whereas here he had passed five-going-on-six."

"So what's your point?"

"My point is nothing more than stating the temporal difference between your world's timeline and this one. And I believe I've just answered your question, Naruto Uzumaki."

Fuck, Naruto thought. He led me right into that. Though he wished to lament on his mistake, a part of him thanked it. He now had more reason to be wary with this individual. As far as things went, the man wasn't too keen on providing answers to his questions. What Naruto had trouble figuring out was why the man was asking useless questions—at least they seem that way. What were his goals exactly?

He's unknown, tricky, and acting like he's playing an entertaining game with me, only I don't realize we were playing until the end. Still, what is he accomplishing?

"My question next, if you will, Naruto Uzumaki," he said, and Naruto nodded. "Accomplishments aside, what do you believe is your biggest failure in your old life?"

He clenched his hands, willing his mind not to think back on that tragic day when Konoha had been destroyed a second time during the war. So many deaths, so many civilian casualties (men, women, children, infants . . . this enemy cared nothing about morality), so many regrets. He had promised he would protect, he had promised he would die before he'd see Konoha fall, he had promised, promised, promised! Yet by the time night had settled into the land, he left his home a broken man.

While he willed his thought to not dig deeper into the horrid past, the rest of him didn't follow that order. The more he thought about pushing these memories to the dark recesses of his mentality, the more he had clear access into them that he involuntarily began reliving them. Mind disciplining was a sour subject for Naruto, and nothing could show it more greatly than in this instance, where he asked for repression, he was given recollection.

"Don't fight back the past, Naruto Uzumaki," the man said, hunching forward, resting his forearms to his knees, and staring at the fire. "It is the foundation of your character. Scars, experiences, memories . . . living. These define you today, and so to deny yourself the past would be denying a part of your self."

"Big words coming from you," Naruto replied. "I can see you're going for the omnipotent approach, but don't think for even one millisecond that you have a good grasp of my character. I don't think about it because I don't want to, and—as you said before—doesn't that define who I am as well?"

"A question I will choose to not answer until I acquire my own answer from you. Tell me, Naruto Uzumaki. If you wish to go forward, you must tell me."

Inside, Naruto seethed. Forgotten memories were being dug from their graves, their coffins pried open, and inside these boxes contained no decay, no rotten out corpses, no worms slithering about . . . just fresh, healthy-looking bodies with death far from their appearances. And why should they have been affected with this? They were never dead, just forgotten, sealed away and entered stasis, waiting for the day they would reemerge.

Memories repressed were often that way for a reason. It might be either a conscious or subconscious thing, but for Naruto's case it was of both. He consciously wished to remove every memory he had of that night, and his subconscious busied itself with removal right around the time he had collapsed a day after the tragedy while he still smelled of smoke, blood, and burned flesh. He had been bedridden for a week, and no one talked about that night around him. All he knew was that Konoha was destroyed and many of his loved ones had died trying to protect it. What nobody would dare tell him that he had been there—Kiba, Neji, Lee, Kotetsu, Izumi, Iruka, Homura, and most important of all, Sakura—during their final moments among the living. Nobody dared tell him that he had been there to see the life die in their eyes while the will of fire still burned in their departed souls. Nobody dared.

"It was a night I rather forget." Naruto lifted both hands to his bowed head, the heel of his palm kneading on the corner of his eyebrows as his fingers glided on his scalp. The memories were slowly returning. "The day Madara invaded Konoha and killed hundreds, if not thousands, of people. The screams of many, I hear in my sleep. The scent of the raging fire engulfing the village, I smell whenever wood is burned. The sight of blood, organs, and the white-eyed stares of non-Hyuuga ninjas, I see from time to time, as if whatever present I tried to live was an illusion and I was forever stuck inside that day, forced to relive my failure as castigation. If I hadn't willed myself to forget, I might not have never been able to gather the strength to continue fighting."

"I can see that this memory troubles you greatly," the man said, sounding like he sympathized with him. "I will not force you to relive anymore of it."

With that single sentence, every thought about that tragic night was locked back up. Even when he tried to think back on it—an involuntary action of his mind, nothing more—it was like a giant firewall was built in front of the door leading towards that sea of regret, grief, and despair.

"Did you just—" Naruto stopped himself before he was able to fully articulate a question. Despite the raging curiosity to learn that the mysterious redhead had a hand in this strange event—it didn't seem far off; Naruto still suspected the man erased his memories when he was asleep—he needed to save his question for something much more important.

"Who are you?"

"This is the first time we met, Naruto Uzumaki, yet at the same time, this is also the third time we met."

"Huh?"

"In your world, I was a blinded fool, letting hatred and ambition corrupt my intentions. In this world, I have achieved enlightenment through an early death." He looked straight at Naruto, his eyes piercing him with intense fascination through the crimson cloth wrapped around them. "This world has many secrets, young one. And I have the bad luck of knowing them all."

"You haven't answered my question."

"I'll get to that; don't worry. But I do have to wonder why you can barely remember who I am. We've met before in your old life, and I can see a sense of familiarity glowing in your eyes—yes, those gray eyes . . . perfect."

"True, I seem to recall you from somewhere," Naruto said, racking his brain to remember, "but I still asked a question you have to answer."

"Persistent, are we?" It was meant to be rhetorical like before.

But Naruto just felt like answering. "You'd probably change the subject otherwise." Due to his short-attention span in his youth, this happened a lot. He always became annoyed when people abruptly changed subjects.

The man nodded, not out of reluctance or resignation, but out of determination. This was in contrast to how Naruto pictured him to be earlier. The man seemed to have a sense of honor—a rare trait to find in the ninja world. Well, his world anyway. Maybe it was not that uncommon to find someone like him here.

The crimson cloth covering his eyes was slowly removed. When Naruto had a good look at the man's eyes, a sudden realization came upon him. Those eyes shined in the firelight, casting those gray orbs in a yellowish tint, yet not even that color could mistake the multiple rings spreading out from the pupil. Eyes Naruto had seen years ago, eyes he never thought he'd see again.

The Rinnegan.

"Na—Na—"

"It is nice to meet you, Naruto Uzumaki. I am the reincarnated Rikudou Sennin, Nagato Uzumaki."

"This is too surreal," he murmured. The headache was slowly returning, and the conversation with the mysterious individual had come to a dramatic pause.

After announcing that he was, in fact, Nagato Uzumaki, Naruto did the sensible thing and outright yelled, "Bullshit!" Nagato took it with a shrug and a chuckle, not at all annoyed. His calm fuelled Naruto's confusion and frustration, and it led to a three-second silence before the former blond stood up from his seat and paced about the room, muttering.

Nagato did not utter a sound after his introduction, neither proving he was who he said he was nor admitting that what he said was fecal matter of a taurus.

Naruto liked it that way; the silence made it better for him to think things thoroughly. But tried as he might, his thoughts brought him back to the same conclusion he had come to before the bullshit comment. That one simple declaration tore open a stampede of questions he wanted to ask immediately, but something held him back.

He opted taking a deep breath, reeling in his loose thoughts, and returning to his seat. Slumping with a heavy sigh might have been overly dramatic, but it summed up his feelings in one go. He didn't bother seeing if Nagato knew how much he had confused him now, and if Naruto had even bothered to look, he would've seen a knowing smile on the redhead's lips.

"Next question," Naruto said, "Let's get this over with."

Nagato, unfortunately, didn't inquire about his abruptness—it would've been wasting a more important question otherwise. "Have you been in love?"

"Yes," he answered abruptly. He said nothing more. There was no need for elaboration.

If Nagato had been disappointed, he didn't show it. But the smile withered from his lips and morphed into a thin horizontal line, a sign of masking emotions.

"Why did you heal me and bring me here?" was his question. He might not remember what happened to him, but with the fresh bandages wrapped around his torso, he eventually sought his own conclusions based on the clues laid out before him. He expected a quick answer like what he had done, but Nagato still held onto that 'respect to a guest' thing, so his answer was quite informative. Again, he had the sudden wild thought that the former Akatsuki pseudo-leader intended to inform him of everything that had transpired.

"I didn't heal you, Naruto Uzumaki," he said, once again interlocking his fingers and resting his forearms on his knees as he stared into the fire. "I merely carried you into my sanctuary to recuperate from the extraction process."

"Extraction process?"

Instead of replying that his question limit was up, as Naruto realized moments after asking, Nagato chose to humor him. "You do not remember between the time you've crossed the secret door and the time you've fallen unconscious in the shed." There was a slight emphasis on do not, as if they were more fitting words than may not. "It is better this way, perhaps. But rest assured, you have forgotten what happened, but the effect instilled upon you remains. And that is what's important."

Naruto tried his luck a second time. "Why?"

"To save humanity, of course."

"And how am I supposed to do that?"

He lucked out on the third question when Nagato turned to him with a raised eyebrow and a lopsided smirk, the latter portraying a very different person from what he was used to. Just what happened to this world's Nagato that caused this kind of change? It wasn't bad per se, just unexpected.

"My question first, Naruto Uzumaki," he said. "If you were, say, given the chance to control the body of this world's Naruto, what would be your reaction?"

He narrowed his eyes.

"It is merely a hypothetical question, nothing more."

Naruto stood up again and neared the burning bonfire. The sight of it still made him uneasy for some unfathomable reason, but looking into Nagato's Rinnegan eyes as they reflected the yellow-orange ambience of the fire in front of him made him more uneasy. His thoughts raged at the appalling notion of taking over Kiiro-Naruto's life. Sure, he never expected to be where he was now from a jutsu's weird transdimensional effect, but that would not justify him invading his counterpart's life. He already lived his life and died a man strengthened by his mistakes and regrets. He wasn't looking for a second chance, despite his many wishes to do so because in the end, those mistakes and regrets molded him into the person he was today. What didn't kill him made him stronger, and he had used that strength to fulfill the prophecy the best way he could. Happiness was something he lacked during the last years of his life, always battle after battle after battle until that unavoidable event, where the final showdown between good and evil commenced at last. At first, this might be his chance to attain a small taste of normalcy after all the crap his life and fate (mentioned out of sarcasm; he still did not believe in this thing and would rather see it copulate itself if it did) had thrown at him.

If it were, he didn't take the chance.

Because it would mean stealing a life, a five-year-old's life.

Naruto breathed deeply from his nose and looked upwards, barely noticing that the uneasiness in his gut dissipated the moment his eyes steered away from the direct sight of the fire. He wondered how long he had been contemplating his answer, but then dismissed it. If he had inconvenienced Nagato for taking too long, the guy probably didn't mind.

When he looked back towards his fellow Uzumaki, he answered him with the voice he used whenever he wanted to motivate his team before a mission, before entering a battle that could be their last.

"Angry, resentful, grievous," he said. "Yet happy, excited, and thankful," he admitted. It was human nature to search for happiness even when the means to it were not righteous. Naruto doubted there was anyone who didn't have a selfish thought once in their life. And though this was human nature, to not act on these questionable methods to happiness was a sign of being humane.

"You've stated your thoughts as well your hidden thoughts," Nagato remarked. "How very honest of you."

"It's not about being honest, Nagato. I gave you an answer. Give me mine."

"Very well. To save humanity, there has to be a small compromise. It is divided into four steps, two of which have already been done."

"But why?"

"To save humanity, of course. What other reason is needed?"

"No, I mean, why me? I've already saved the world—well, my world anyway—why should I be forced into this responsibility again?"

"Because you were destined to."

He clenched his fists, forcing back the frightening urge to beat someone black and blue right this instant. After countless trials and heartache, after many battles he faced and brothers he had to bury, he was once more cast into a chess game created by fate. He might not believe in fate, but the problems lay out before him—problems he had to solve for the sake of the world—revealed a pattern reminiscent of a struggling hero. His life was already predestined, and it was forged in the battlefield, where he felt more alive than anywhere else. He was a ninja in heart and soul, and though he had vowed to end the cycle of hatred plaguing humanity, there were still remnants of the human basic instinct—raw, wild, uncontrollable, filled with bloodlust. In his teen years, Naruto deluded himself into thinking he'd get rid of them with time, and in the end, these remnants were still there, present but dormant.

Despite his misgivings in replaying a role he thought he had already given up on, anticipation tried to scorch away the doubt flooding his mentality. An anticipation for battle, for conflict . . . for war. And Naruto felt sickened to the bone by it.

"What did you do to me?"

This question had taken Nagato by surprise this time. But then he seemed to have realized what the former blond was thinking because his raised eyebrows came down along with the formation of his lips, creating a disapproving frown.

They both knew Naruto was pinning blame to others when there was no blame to pin. His basic human instinct yearned for these unthinkable concepts because they were ingrained into his mind since the day he had begun conjuring rational thought. No one was to blame for the construct of his instincts other than genetics, but still, Naruto wanted to blame something for this. His mind's views and his body's hidden urges were at each other's throats, and it was tearing Naruto apart. He couldn't pick sides because choosing either one meant betraying a part of him.

"That's not the kind of question you should be asking me, Naruto Uzumaki," he stated monotonously, in contrast to the animated voice he used earlier. "Whatever inner turmoil you're experiencing was created by you and you alone. The only thing I did was remodel your state of being, nothing more."

Casting this inner turmoil, as Nagato said, aside for now, he refocused on the conversation. "What are these steps you mentioned?"

Nagato looked really glad to answer that. "Step one"—he raised his right fist and jutted the forefinger—"transform you into an Uzumaki."

"But . . . I am an Uzumaki."

"In name and blood, yes, but your father's genes achieved dominance over your mother's. A rare thing to happen, but it did, so I had to tweak your genetic structure a bit after you and Minato Namikaze resealed the Kyuubi."

"So you tweaked my body to have dominant genes of my Mom? But why—"

It suddenly dawned on him then. Regardless of the weak logic brought out in the open (when and how was Nagato able to do that?), he found a missing piece of an unsolved puzzle.

"You're the one who turned me into this," he murmured, touching his red hair, blinking his gray eyes. "But . . . what about Naruto, my counterpart? Why does he look like me now?"

"I needed a basis for your metamorphosis, Naruto Uzumaki. The Naruto Uzumaki of this world had the dominant genes of Kushina Uzumaki, and as such, he was the perfect candidate." He took a breath before continuing. "Sadly, I do not have the power to duplicate that state of sovereignty. I can only transfer them."

"So you didn't modify our genes per se, just swapped them?"

"Correct."

"And all this was part of the plan?"

"Correct again. The prophecy won't be fulfilled unless a true Uzumaki appeared."

"But again, why me? Isn't the prophecy supposed to be for my counterpart?"

Nagato shook his head. "Originally, yes, but the parameters have changed. When news of your impending arrival spread, the whole fabric of time had to be rewoven to accommodate you into the equation. With that said, you were deemed a more suitable candidate as the Child of Prophecy than the Naruto Uzumaki of this world."

"Fucking balls." Naruto rubbed his eyes tiredly with his forefinger and thumb. He didn't bother asking how swapping roles in a prophecy was possible; if Nagato could swap genetic structures, then how plausible would it be for him to do this as well? "So you've been expecting me before I even came here?"

"In a matter of speaking, yes. Like I said before, this world has many secrets. Don't be surprised that I claim to know when and how you'd arrive."

"Then you know my future too? How will that come about?"

"I am not liable to say one's future. If you were to know, then it will not come to pass. And if this future does not come to pass . . ." He left the phrase unsaid, and Naruto caught onto what was implied. "Step two," he continued, "is far simpler than the first: Purification."

"What do you mean? And how do you say it's simpler?"

"That's two questions, Naruto Uzumaki. Answer this for me: If you were forced to sacrifice a life to preserve the peace, will you do it?"

"I will not."

"Then peace is destroyed and the world is engulfed in havoc."

"No, it won't," Naruto retorted, his determination shining brightly in his steely gray irises, "because I'll find a way to save both."

"A foolhardy answer, yet something in your eyes tell me that you've done this before . . . probably encountered someone inquiring a similar question. Now to my second question: Why save both, knowing that it's not a given choice?"

Naruto held a hand to his heart, tracing the contours of the bandages with his calloused fingers. The redhead's words sparked the encounter with Itachi Uchiha years ago, in a time when Sasuke's hatred and vendetta hadn't been mutated and manipulated by the ancient Uchiha hiding in Akatsuki's name. There was no scar visible on his chest, but the entry and exit wounds of Sasuke's Chidori transcended the physical. It had been a clear sign that Sasuke wished to sever the bonds he made in Konoha, honestly believing that such things distracted him from his path as an avenger. He lived alone, therefore he would die alone.

Naruto just couldn't accept, even now, that it came true.

I couldn't save him in time, he thought grievously, shaping his tracing hand into a fist and then tapped the healed entry wound with as much force as a playful jab.

His eyes stared into the circular patterns of the Rinnegan, and, with conviction as tough as his, he answered, "Because I don't like being given limited choices. As long as there is free will, I can choose which path my life will take, and if I'm not satisfied with that path, I'll forge my own."

"Big words, Naruto Uzumaki," Nagato replied, "but they are not enough to create a third choice. And look how much you've failed forging that new path when Sasuke died by—"

"Shut up," he growled, eyes glancing away, into the dark shadows where they neither complimented nor reprimanded his past actions.

"Very well, I will be sure to avoid mentioning your best friend." Nagato took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Step two requires only your presence, with or without your consent. That is why it is much simpler."

"With or without my consent," the ex-blond muttered, his eyes narrowing at the implication.

"And I stand by the name I've provided, purification, for there is no other name to describe it. I'm just sad to say that your . . . rebellion in the snowfield created less than satisfactory results in the purification process." He shook his head. "I had hoped to take you by surprise at the time, but I greatly underestimated your skills. And because of that, the purification will take much longer to finish than before."

"You mean you haven't finished yet?"

"No. From the time my pets brought you to me and to the time you have woken up, I was busy with Step Two. With your prolonged exposure to the snowy weather of the Mindscape Boundaries, it'd take a lot more time to finish.

"With that said, you've entered a form of stasis until you were, more or less, purified of everything not needed."

"Huh," Naruto remarked, "I don't feel any different."

"It's not the body but the soul I've cleansed. The last two steps cannot be initialized otherwise."

"Then how long have I been asleep?"

Nagato remained silent.

"Nagato! Tell me. How long was I in here?"

"You will still need to be here for Step Three, Naruto Uzumaki." He stood up hastily, his voice hardening as his eyes narrowed. "The prophecy demands that you complete your destiny. Now come, let us move on. Now that you are awake, we can prepare you for what lies ahead."

"I'm not going anywhere, least of all with you."

"This isn't a matter of choice, Naruto Uzumaki. To prevent the spread of darkness, of hatred, the prophecy must be fulfilled."

"And like I said, I'm not going anywhere. Just try and make me."

"I—"

Whatever he was about to say got lost when the second Rikudou Sennin closed his eyes and mouth, took a deep breath while panning his head upwards, and exhaled through his puckering lips as if he were releasing a breath of smoke. He stayed silent for five seconds, going on six, seven, eight, nine, ten—and then panned his head back down so that they were looking eye-to-eye, both exhibiting determination in their beliefs and desires. It didn't seem like neither one was about to stand down. There was something in his eyes Naruto felt disconcertment, like staring into the eyes of a prankster who knew someone was about to get pranked. Whatever power of foreknowledge the redhead had within this realm, it must've channeled valuable intel just now, and he understood that it was about him.

"No," Nagato said, never removing eye contact and keeping the blinks at a minimum, "I won't have to make you. There is still time before that day. Until then, you are relatively safe from me."

The deliverance was cold and detached, and Naruto didn't like it. Not only the sign of indifference, the guy was deliberately insinuating that he'd return here to continue these steps of his sometime in the future. And he already deduced that this so-called 'that day' pertained to the day when chaos and darkness ruled the world. He believed it was the truth, but he was no yes-man to anyone, especially not fate or prophecies. He had enough being their pawn.

"Just what happened to you, Nagato? You were never like this. Weren't we fellow pupils?"

"Of Jiraiya?" Nagato formed a nostalgic smile. "It has been years since I've last seen him and Tsunade-san, but I learn more about their lives every day here. Their daughter takes up after her father a little too much for Tsunade-san's liking."

"While I love to stay and chat about a girl possibly giggling perversely as she peeks in the men's bath"—for some reason, this produced a shiver down his spine and an urge to rectify the corruption Jiraiya induced via genetics—"I need to head back to my counterpart, double-time."

"I'm a little surprised that you haven't asked how and why I have gotten the title as the reincarnated Rikudou Sennin." With no intention of stopping Naruto now, he sat back down. "You didn't even demand I change you and the other Naruto back to your old selves."

"Would you comply if I did?"

"On both accounts? No. On just the inquiries? Yes . . . maybe."

"Glad I'm not curious, then."

"Hasty to get out, I take it?"

"You have no idea."

Nagato snorted inconspicuously. "Though we have not seen eye-to-eye, Naruto Uzumaki, I sincerely hope you will change your mind in the end."

You're not hoping, bastard, he thought, resisting the need to grit his teeth, you're actually waiting for it. Too bad I'm already onto you.

"If you wish to get out, stare into the fire."

Naruto might've asked for clarification, but a split-decision put an end to his question before it came out. He instead turned his head towards the fire, noting that the uneasy feeling from before was mysteriously absent, and stared.

And stared.

And stared.

There was a certain level of calm coming to his features, and though he still had the undesirable trait of having a short-attention span, his mind never once thought about looking away. The fire wasn't enticing or soothing, like a moth being attracted to a bug-zapper, but it still had a grip on his attention, eliminating every new idea his mind conjured in the speed of thought. All that was in there was the fire.

It might've lasted an eternity in the speed of thought, but in the realms of this dark mindscape—the supposed realm of the Second Rikudou Sennin—it was only fifteen seconds after he stared into the flames that he felt a slight tug on his navel. Soon, the world began to swirl and crack and become disjointed, and he was feeling a potent sense of vertigo.

His consciousness slipped from the void-like mindscape and reentered the familiar sewer room where Kyuubi rested and hid in the darkness of its new cage. He turned around, but there was no trace of a portal or doorway that bridged this point to Nagato's little campfire. He didn't know how exactly he had come here, but it was nothing like a shunshin or reverse-summoning. It was more like he unconsciously willed himself to appear here, and it was that will alone granting him passage.

"Glad to be back," he murmured to the room, a smile forming on his lips. He never thought he'd miss this place as much as he did now, but in a way it was comforting; it meant he deemed this his new home.

First things first, he needed to know some current events. And the only person that could supply him with that was Rambo. Naruto quickly stepped out of the sewers and traversed the mindscape towards his base of operations, only to stop his hand from grabbing the doorknob when he realized how disheveled the place looked now. Cracks in the paint, the windows fogged up, and the door's hinges covered in rust.

A chill coursed down his spine. He opened the door, hinges screaming like mini-banshees as they were reintroduced to the forces of friction.

"Rambo!" he called after stepping into the hallway, the lights completely off, shrouding his vision beyond four feet. He flipped the light-switch and ventured deeper. "Rambo!"

"What?" the animal called back from somewhere. "Ah . . . Junko!"

Naruto heard a series of hoof-steps growing louder and louder, and from the entranceway to the kitchen, a white, fluffy sheep with noticeable horns jutting from its head came out.

"Rambo?" He could hardly recognize the sheep; he now looked a lot more like an actual ram than a gender-confused mammal. As the chill once more returned, Naruto let out the only word he had the strength to utter: "Yo."

Rambo's features turned annoyed. "You've been gone for two years and that's the first thing you say?"

Nagato stayed where he was as he watched the young Uzumaki fade from sight, a ghost of a smile adorning his lips. As soon as the last remnant of Naruto exited this plane of existence, Nagato intertwined his fingers once more and took on a thinking pose, elbows planted on his laps, mouth buried in the space between his thumbs and forefingers. He pondered over their discussion, how he almost lost control of his anger when the boy began to show his rebellious streak. But then again, the boy obviously didn't trust people easily after all that had happened in the Fourth Great Shinobi War. If it hadn't been for the last second insight, Nagato might have resorted to less-than-benevolent actions to ensure stability of the world.

This insight was another vision of the future. While these visions were often common, they didn't come unprecedentedly like what happened then. This was the first time it had happened to him since his induction as the Second Rikudou Sennin, and the contents of the vision were not at all comforting. He knew Naruto would come back—it was predestined, no matter how many times the future changed via his manipulations—but he wouldn't do so until there were only hours before the 'point of no return,' a time when even his own knowledge of the future could not determine the outcome of the upcoming battle. Despite the odds slowly turning against him, he didn't mope around and lament this fate. These were the cards he had been dealt with, and it would be dishonoring the vows he made to the people who died to get him here.

He succeeded his predecessor because the world needed a new protector of stability, a new scion of balance. The world was without a guardian for centuries, and the neutrality between light and darkness was at the breaking point. This battle was now inevitable, and the best anyone could hope for was lessening casualties. He had been entrusted with this responsibility and he'd be damned before he let things fall. He would honor the trust placed in him, even if it meant forcing a soul into a suicidal situation—the death of one for the lives of many. Despite these words echoing in his head, his heart responded differently. He had been raised and trained to respect honor, to stay in his beliefs, and to be true to himself. All of this cloak and dagger movement, being an omnipresent deity manipulating the acts and whims of the masses under his limited control—all of this didn't sit well for him. He started fights and rivalries, ended loves and friendships. And it was all for the betterment of the world.

Yet he kept at it because he still wished to honor the pact between him and his ancestor, the original Rikudou Sennin. There were times he thought about quitting, but he never once acted upon these human impulses. Someone had to be here to prevent random events from diverting the timeline from the original course. One mistake that could not be rectified might mean the difference between a world of peace like he, Konan, Yahiko, and Jiraiya-sensei had always envisioned and a world razed by hatred and war, depleting the human population to a dwindling number that it'd take centuries for the population to return.

"For the greater good," he said to the fire with a sneer, close to hating such callous words, yet he had to regard such a phrase as if it were a biblical quote, a command needed to be followed.

"Was it wise to leave him be?"

Nagato didn't turn his head towards the speaker. He replied, "It's best that he and I remain neutral, if not reluctant allies. If I were to force it on him now, he'd probably abuse it to annoy me and defy the contents of the prophecy."

"That's Naruto Uzumaki, all right."

He might not be looking at the person behind him, but he could sense in his tone of voice that he was smiling humorously.

"The most unpredictable man I have the misfortune of meeting."

"I second that, my friend," Nagato said, "I second that. How are things from your side?"

"Good as to be expected," the person answered. "Two years is a really long time and the ramifications"—he stopped a moment to snort, as if remembering an inside joke—"of keeping Naruto this long in stasis could turn your well-defined plan into garbage."

"I made the plan to be quite flexible and able to adapt to any random variable intending to disrupt it. And if it does fail . . . well, garbage can still be salvaged, correct?"

"I see. While I have confidence that Naruto can become the man he is destined to become, I do not believe that this can be achieved through manipulations alone. The future looks bleak as ever."

"I'd be quite afraid if it weren't, to tell the truth." Nagato smiled and closed his eyes.

"Why?"

"Because bleak means that the future is still pure, still untainted by the repercussions of the past and present. With that said, it can still be saved."

"I guess even you are trying to defy fate, hmm?" The person chuckled and, if Nagato's hearing was right, turned around.

"I'm not defying fate, Rambo," Nagato replied, opening his eyes again, staring into the fire where at the very core, he could see Naruto on his way back to his counterpart's mindscape. "I am merely manipulating it."

"It's about time I head back, then. Someone has to greet the ex-blond on the other side."

"I wish you luck, my friend. Be sure to take care of him. He will need it for the tough road ahead."

Chapter Afterword:

It seems a little repetitive to say this, especially since almost every other author I've read states this out in their A/N, but oh well. And so . . . the plot thickens.