Date written: 12/06/11 – 23/06/11

Posted on FanFiction: 28/06/11

A/N: If you want to keep tabs on my progress with the next chapter, check my profile page every few days. I update the word count on WIP chapters on all current stories.

This chapter is mostly filler, but the plot still carries on, although in a snail's pace. The real tension and action will start next chapter, after a bit more character development and reintroduction due to the time skip. I find that this story is motivated in equal parts plot and characters. I can't progress this further if the characters do not speak out like real people, and the characters can't progress through their development without conflicts and motivations pushing them onwards. I've come to love my rendition of the Naruto cast, and I hope I at least did some of them justice with their alternate universe counterparts.

It has angst, it has comedy (they make me laugh anyway), and it has suspense (in the end anyway). And I'm happy with what I created.

And time to congratulate myself on a milestone achievement: 100k words, baby! 100k words . . . and still counting!

–– CHAPTER 12 ––

Live is Evil Spelled Backwards

The morning sunshine breached through the thin veil of the window curtains and basked his face with light and heat. He squirmed in his sleep as he unconsciously covered his eyes with his forearm. He was not always lazy, but he had been up all night researching an original technique inspired from one of his lucid dreams, so it was to be expected he didn't want to rise up to the morning, eat breakfast, and head for the Academy.

The thought of tardiness seeped into his thoughts, and seven-year-old Arashi Senju groaned in resignation. The clock on his bedside informed him he still had two hours before he could be late for school. It relaxed his agitation somewhat. His adopted mother and also godmother, Tsunade Senju, wanted to ingrain into him the importance of punctuality, and to ensure actual progress, her punishments for any tardiness was a little extreme. Two hours only gave him fifteen minutes of rest before he had to get off the bed and do his weekday morning routines.

But even those precious fifteen minutes had shattered when a particular white-haired girl came into his room and attacked him in his bed. This was a relatively normal scene in the morning, yet he would rather spend his time without being subjected to her fascination with wrestling submission holds.

"Onee-chan!" he shouted, struggling to get out of the Boston crab she pinned him in. "Ow, ow, ow!" Dignity lost, he tapped the mattress repeatedly, but his sister kept the pressure.

"Too weak! Too weak!" Ten-year-old Chiyome Senju laughed gleefully as she pulled her little brother's legs a little harder. "You're never going to surpass me at this rate, Naru-kun."

"I give already. Ow, h—hey! Do it any harder and you'll dislocate my knees." He didn't stop tapping; the pain was relentless.

"I'm not dislocating your knees, silly," she replied. "If I did, you'd be screaming in pain."

"HOW IS THIS NOT SCREAMING IN PAIN?"

"See, just like that."

"Onee-chan, just get"—he struggled violently—"off!"

"Wah?" The grapple was broken, and in the ensuing tangle of legs, Chiyome slipped off the bed and hit her head on the floor. She didn't yelp, but she nursed the impacted spot, gritting her teeth.

"Ah, Onee-chan, are you okay?"

She gave him a look that yelled, 'Do I look okay to you?'

"It's karma, you know," Arashi said. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before trying out your wrestling moves while I'm asleep."

"I only did that once, okay, and I already apologized for it. You were already awake, too. And this is just skinship, my little brother, skinship." As if by magic, she rose from the floor, acting like she hadn't been hit in the head by karma, and went to happy-go-lucky mode again. "It helps strengthen our sibling bond."

"My impression on sibling skinship does not include butt-to-butt contact," he deadpanned. "Also pain. Definitely pain."

"Butt-to-butt," she whispered slowly before a healthy dose of pink came to her cheeks. Hands moving to cover the pink, she smiled and shook her head like a flustered schoolgirl. "Aiyah! Arashi-kun no ecchi! (tr. "Arashi, you little perv!")"

"I don't know what you're thinking, but I can tell it's not good."

"I'm your Onee-chan, and yet . . . I never thought you'd have such vulgar thoughts about me."

Definitely not good, he thought as a shiver rolled down his spine.

"But teasing aside," Chiyome said, fixing her one-sided twin-tails, "you better get ready for school."

He bowed his head, sighed dramatically, and turned to his bedside clock again. "There goes my fifteen minutes." He made sure to turn off the alarm before he did anything else.

"Mom was called in about five o'clock today, so she's not home. It's also my turn to cook breakfast this time. What'll you have?"

He thought it over as he ejected out of his bed with less vigor than usual. "Toasts and egg."

"Buttered?"

"And sugared."

"The egg or the toasts?"

"That joke is already old, Onee-chan." He yawned and ran a hand through his unruly blond hair.

"Not too old for me, though. Teehee. Get down at fifteen, okay?"

"Yeah," he replied as he made his way to the bathroom bridging his bedroom to hers. He closed the door on his side and then the door on his sister's side; she always left it open, much to his dismay whenever she hopped out of the shower and it was his turn to bathe. They might be too young for adolescent hormones to kick in, but Arashi had seen enough of Chiyome's 'hidden skin' to not be perturbed by it anymore (though somewhere in the back of his mind, he could've sworn someone kept reciting three words like a mantra of reassurance: "I'm not Pedobear!") and his too-young mind hadn't yet grasped the concept of sexual arousal, although he wasn't that ignorant of the theory.

Arashi faced the mirror and looked into the face of a person he had become since the Second Coming two years ago. After he had awoken from his coma, Tsunade, the Hokage, and Jiraiya were all in his room carefully discussing to him the effects caused by the release of his seal. To hear that he was the container for the Kyuubi no Youko was a little hard to swallow, more so when he realized that it was his own father who sealed the demon in him. He felt a lot of negative emotions that day and said a lot of hurtful things, such hatred and damnation to a man he had looked up to, and it slowly turned even sourer when he first looked into a mirror, where alien features stared at him from the other side.

The spiky blond hair, the sky blue shade of his eyes, the lack of whisker marks on his cheeks, his pale skin darkened into a light tan—almost everything that made him Naruto Uzumaki had changed and what remained was a likeness of the man he was slowly starting to hate. He had broken the mirror in that hospital bathroom, unable to accept the truth presented to his eyes as he cradled his bleeding knuckles with tears cascading down his unmarred cheeks.

Eventually he coped with change and adapted to acquiring a new identity, and the once unrelenting hatred he had of his father was dwindling until all that remained was a feeling of regret.

His adoption into the Senju clan had been a great surprise and wasn't just a fact by word of mouth. The whole thing was official, from signed documents to birth certificates. He was happy that Tsunade gave him a choice, but as things were like then, he didn't really have a choice. He was too young to fully understand, but he understood at least enough that it was the best choice to take, so he took it. The next day, Naruto Uzumaki officially died and he was now known as Arashi Senju, the Yondaime-lookalike—a moniker he gave himself.

After brushing his teeth and washing his face, he returned to his bedroom and put on his standard garb of a white T-shirt with an orange swirl at the front and dark green shorts. Being a second year student in the Ninja Academy, he wasn't yet allowed to carry his own weapons, a privilege given only to sixth years. As far as Arashi knew, the first year was all about theory and basic physical exercises, and then there were a few tests to see if the ninjas-in-training were fit for this line of work. Second year was where things turned up to a whole different level, and Arashi now actually had to make a tiring effort to stay on the top of his game and not lose to his academic rivals.

He stood in front of the full-length mirror and assumed the fighting stance the class learned last week. He returned to a relaxed, standing position and instantly shifted back to the fighting stance. What he wanted to work on was his reflexes because swift change from passive to aggressive held some merit in taijutsu, a subject he was lacking in a few aspects. He was more motivated to improve when the instructors announced that there would be a taijutsu competition held at the end of the month. A perfect time to test his skills against other students inside and outside his class.

He kept this exercise for a while until his sister called him down for breakfast. He came down to the dining room, sat on his designated seat, waited for his sister to come join him, said his grace, and happily ate.

"Got any plans after school?" she asked as she pierced the tuna she was eating. Unlike Arashi, she preferred her breakfast to be a light rice meal.

"Not really," he answered nonchalantly.

"It's Wednesday today. And I heard the flower shop will be open until five. She'll be working there again."

"I see." He didn't let her see it, but there was a faint glint in his eyes when he listened. He tried to stay as nonchalant as he could, but his older sister knew his habits too much to be fooled.

"Yeah." The great thing about Chiyome was that she knew when not to pry. Her intention was clear, which was just to inform about the flower shop's early closing time. She didn't have any underlying motives; she was merely trying to help her brother out the best she could.

She would not realize how much Arashi loved her more for her thoughtfulness.

Thanking for the food and helping her clean the dishes, the two of them did today's chores their mother listed on the fridge, went out of the Senju clan's ancestral home, and made their way to the Ninja Academy. The thing about the flower shop was not spoken between them again.

All in all, a relatively normal morning for the Senju siblings.

They left for school an hour before classes begin because their home was built on the other side of the village. Leaping on the rooftops sounded like a good way to cut down at least half an hour of their travelling time, but neither opined this out loud to each other. As far as Arashi and Chiyome were concerned, the long walk to school had this slight calming effect upon them as they conversed about everyday stuff, from the lessons they'd learned in school to the news they sometimes get ahold of from time to time. Most of the news were about the current activities of their parents because, even though they lived off well and would probably never starve, they were deprived of one simple thing a family should have: bonding. Tsunade was busy with the hospital—approximately seventy percent of her time was given to her work, leaving little time to spend for her children. Jiraiya, on the other hand, was more often at home, but this season he was out of the country, trying to reestablish contact with his spy network, something about an important matter the Sandaime Hokage ordered him to verify.

It was just the two of them now, and this went on for almost three months. Their father might probably be back home in another week, so it wasn't all bad.

Arashi yawned as he looked towards the Hokage Monument, centering most of his attention on the fourth head. He bit back another yawn, but Chiyome picked up on it immediately.

"Didn't sleep well last night?" she asked, and he understood then that he had to tell her the truth.

"No," he answered. "I had one of those dreams again."

"You mean those dreams?"

He nodded tiredly, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms. "It was a bit different from the others."

"Care to share?"

He shrugged. "I was a few years older in that dream, stronger, faster, wiser." He waited for a retort from his sister, but it didn't come, so he resumed, "I had looked all cool-like standing on top of an orange toad who was on top of Gamabunta, Dad's boss summon, with the elder toads, Ma and Pa, on my shoulders. I was wearing a similar cloak as the Yondaime and I might not have seen my reflection or anything, but I have this weird thought that my eyes were like a toad's."

"And . . . that's it?"

"No, not at all. That's just the beginning, because we were in Konoha. Gamabunta was in the middle of Konoha, Onee-chan."

"And what's the big deal about that?"

"Didn't Dad once say that Gamabunta was taller than all the buildings of Konoha except for the Hokage Tower? He would've had to trample on a few buildings to stand in the middle of the village. But the strange thing is that he was standing on flat ground."

"You also said before that the Konoha in your dreams was a little different."

"Yeah, but I just know that there were buildings where Gamabunta had been standing on."

"So what does that mean?"

"There was smoke covering my vision—probably we were summoned to Konoha together—and when it cleared, I saw the Hokage Monument, and the rest of Konoha was nothing more than a crater."

"And then what?"

"There was this orange-haired weirdo with piercings and completely gray eyes. He had five others with him, all wearing the same getup and having the same eyes. And I was fighting all six of them at once. Alone."

"And you defeated them all with such ease that it isn't funny," she replied skeptically, eyeing Arashi with barely contained annoyance. "Not exactly one of your most imaginative dreams, is it?"

"I don't know how that battle ended because I woke up before it really started."

"Boring." She turned away with her arms behind her head. "Don't spice me up if it ends so badly, idiot."

"Who knows, maybe I'll see the continuation of it tonight."

"Don't hope for it, though. Your subconscious isn't really benevolent enough to let you take another bite out of that fantasy world you mysteriously conjured up."

"It's not fantasy if it's Konoha, ya know."

"Different Konoha, different acting people, me not existing there—which, by the way, I believe is your own way of insulting me—and don't forget the abusive relationship you supposedly have with Haruno."

"Oh come on, Onee-chan. She wasn't that bad in my dreams."

"Whoever hits you over the littlest things is bad in my book."

Her way to show sisterly care made his heart flutter.

"Of course, the exemption to that rule is me. I have every right to beat you for the littlest things."

And she ruined the moment not three seconds later. It was a frequent alternation between love and hate the two were having, but it seemed normal for the siblings to keep this up even when they grew older. She doted on him and let herself be the biggest pain in the ass he'd ever come across; he looked up to her and let her do as she pleased because he wanted her to be happy. The standpoint of their relationship had always been unclear, but nobody could ever mistake the loving bond bridging the distance between them. They weren't related by blood, but they were by name, and their roles as brother and sister didn't look to have degraded over the years. If any, it had gotten stronger, although not many could see the difference.

"What do you think these dreams mean, Onee-chan?"

"You're asking the wrong person, my precious Otouto." They were passing the street where Ichiraku Ramen was located, but after giving Arashi the evilest glare she could make, they got to the next block without him saying anything about noodles, broth, and the euphoric taste that tickles the tongue and has you begging for more. "You should go ask a Freudian."

"But their interpretations are mostly about the nasty." It was Arashi's own word for sex. Being the adopted son of a smut writer and of a veteran medic who took no bullshit and wouldn't hesitate to let her children know everything there is to know about the human anatomy, him understanding the concept behind this pleasurable activity shouldn't at all be that surprising.

And to bring forth proof of her containing half of Jiraiya's genes in her DNA, she replied, "That's why I always turn to them when I have a dream."

". . . Onee-chan, has it occur to you that maybe their dream interpretations are, uh, outdated?"

"Of course I'm aware!" she retorted. "I'm not gullible, you know."

"Then why still use their method?"

"It's like reading horoscope," she answered matter-of-factly. "It's entertainment."

"I should've known." He shook his head with a sigh, but his exasperated expression was ruined by the lopsided smile marked on his face. And that smile slowly turned predatory. "Wait till I tell Sasuke about this."

"You're obviously forgetting about that little incident in the girl's bathroom and my photographic evidence of your involvement in it." She mentioned this all playfully, as if she weren't reversing the blackmail he had tried to attain. "I wonder what Ino-chan, Haruno, Hinata-chan, and all the other girls have to say about that?"

Sweating bullets, despite the weather not being as hot as the clear sky and the bright yellow gas giant made it out to be, Arashi put his hands up. "I surrender, I surrender."

"Teehee. Who's the best?"

"Chiyome-onee-sama," he replied monotonously, dejectedly.

"Damn straight. You're still a hundred years early to beat me at my own game."

He only grunted a half-hearted response.

As they came to the gates of the Ninja Academy, with more than fifteen minutes left to spare before the first bell rings, Arashi went ahead to his classroom while Chiyome stayed behind to chat with her classmates basking in the shade of the biggest tree in the premises. It took less than five seconds for that female group to start going on about the cutest boys in the Academy—Arashi could already tell what Chiyome's choice would be, but just like his true identity, it was a well-guarded secret known only to him and his godmother. Not even her closest friends knew which boy she set her eyes on, and she intended to keep it that way. Arashi could still recall the myriad of threats she had uttered that time when he realized the receiver of her puppy love, and he had no doubt she'd carry on with every one of them if he even said a single syllable about her secret.

Entering his classroom was met with little to no attention as everybody else was too busy creating chaos, wanting to at least release some backed up primal urge that needed to be shout out and play before they had to settle down for the start of classes later. Arashi didn't join in on the unofficial festivities, but he was polite enough to say the usual 'good mornings' to his classmates when he passed them. Of course, he also had to dodge paperballs, pencil erasers, and other assortments of projectile objects. It was like lady luck had shined upon him that morning because he only had to dodge three times before sitting down on his designated seat, which was just right beside his best friend and rival.

"Good morning," he said, smiling despite the need to keep the sense of rivalry between them.

He didn't expect Sasuke Uchiha of all people to greet him back, but it happened. The guy looked chipper today as well, and Arashi instantly knew the cause.

"Itachi agreed to help with your shuuriken throwing, huh?"

Sasuke beamed at him. "Yup. It only took me five hundred and thirty-three pleas to make him say yes, too."

"That's not a very small number." He had said this before, and also like before, Sasuke ignored him. "I never thought I'd see the day when your brother agrees to train you."

"He's always been busy after joining ANBU," Sasuke said sympathetically. "I'll make sure that I won't waste his time."

"Why would you think spending time with you is wasted if you didn't do good at all?" He snorted loudly, reviewing what he heard and deeming it the most incredulous thing Sasuke had said since they met. "Your brother adores you, dude. Even I can see that."

"He does? Well, he has a weird way of showing it."

Without warning, Arashi poked him in the forehead with his fore- and middle finger.

"Hey!"

"That's his weird way of showing it, all right," he interrupted, "so take it as it is and accept the guy's eccentricity."

". . . I didn't even know you understood the word 'eccentricity.'"

"I resent that," Arashi growled lowly. He might be one of the topnotchers in the class, but his daydreaming tendencies (the worst of it was when he had been doing it during the final exams in first year, not once, not twice, but five times on five separate exams) labeled him as a bit of an airhead who contradicts the meaning of the word. A high IQ and airheadedness don't go hand-in-hand, but Arashi could attest to the existence of others of his kind.

In the Bleach universe, a girl named Orihime Inoue sneezed.

"By the way," Arashi said after looking around the classroom, "where're the co-founders of your little fanclub?"

Sasuke groaned and rested his forehead on his palm. "The less I think about them, the better my life will be."

"Oh come on, Sasuke, don't tell me you're afraid of two girls crushing on you?"

"I'm flattered and, at the same time, creeped out. I never thought a human's eyes could turn like pink hearts by a simple 'Hn.'"

"Ahhh, the patented Uchiha grunt." Arashi nodded sagely. "The best arsenal of playboy Sasuke Uchiha, and it'll take 0.002 seconds for the desired effect to take place, thereby leaving the victims swooning and shrieking and 'Kyaa'-ing with all their might as they—"

"Okay, enough! Sheesh, you're the most irritating guy I've ever met."

"I'm glad you think so. That makes me wanting to ruin your day all the more tolerable."

"And why exactly do you want to ruin my day?"

"Because it's fun. It has always been fun, Sasuke-kun." He wiggled his eyebrows; Sasuke always felt discomfited when he did that.

"Don't. Ever. Do that. Seriously."

They spent the rest of their time talking more about trivial things, but three minutes before the first bell rang, two girls slammed open the door to the classroom with such violent force, the whole class heard it despite the racket they were storming moments earlier. The two girls who barged in were the famous, as well as infamous, Kunoichi Duo: Sakura Haruno and Ino Yamanaka.

"My win this time, Forehead!"

"Nuh-uh, my toe came in inches before yours did, Pig!"

"Weakest excuse I ever heard."

"That wasn't an excuse! It is a fact."

"A fact only you are aware of, might I add."

"Yeah, well, I don't see you having proof that you won the race."

"Why would I need proof? Me knowing I won is proof enough."

Talk about ego-inflation, Arashi thought with a sigh. It's nice that she's willing to fake her apparent crush on Sasuke to get Sakura out of her meek shell, but she's taking the acting a little too far for my liking. Can't do anything about it, though. Darn it.

His classmates looked at the quasi-debate between the girls a few more seconds before resuming their creation of chaos. Nobody even thought about placating the argument between the pinkette and blonde because the last time somebody did that (Shikamaru) he ended up being the outlet for their ire. After that one incident, Shikamaru kept his mouth shut and his interest elsewhere—the clouds outside, to be more specific.

"Hey, have you heard? We're getting a new teacher today."

Arashi looked behind him, curiosity evident in his face. "Where'd you heard that, Chouji?"

Chouji, who had been speaking to Shikamaru, fished out a bag of potato chips, ate a handful, and then replied, "From the faculty office. I was just passing through there, and Iruka-sensei mentioned it by chance."

"It's probably a replacement for our history teacher, Nodoka-sensei," Shikamaru revealed. He didn't break his sight from the window, where the clouds hovered like white, fluffy shapeshifters, his expression moving back and forth between boredom and intrigue (this one stemming from figuring out difficult cloud formations).

"Really?" Chouji said. "Wow, I never would've guessed."

"How did you end up to that conclusion, Shika?" Arashi asked. He wasn't like Chouji, who instantly believed whatever Shikamaru deduced.

"I've been studying Nodoka-sensei's strange behavior since last week. Tiredness, dozing off on her faculty desk, excusing herself to the bathroom frequently, and her body mass increasing by a few pounds."

"I told him that," Chouji remarked before Arashi could inquire how he had pulled off that last one. "No one but an Akamichi can know a person's body weight just by looking."

"So what does that mean? That she filed for sick leave."

Shikamaru shook his head. "Not sick leave, but maternity leave."

"Huh?"

"Nodoka-sensei is pregnant, Arashi."

". . . come again?"

"Pregnant. Preggers. A life within a life. A bun in the oven. A—"

"Okay, I get it. So we won't be seeing sensei for a few months?"

"Probably for the whole year."

Arashi turned back to Chouji. "So did Iruka-sensei say anything about who is our new teacher?"

"I only know that the new teacher's name is Hatake."

A blast from the past, if Arashi ever heard one. "Hatake, huh?" he reiterated nonchalantly, though on the inside, he was assaulted with mixed feelings. It had been years since he last spoke to Kakashi-nii-san. Because of the need for secrecy, Kakashi was not informed of his shift in identity and, thus, only knew him as the adopted child of the Senju clan. There were many times he wished he could approach Kakashi, but he kept getting cold feet. Kakashi was a veteran ninja and Arashi knew, just knew, that if the two of them were to converse, then the jounin might be able to pick up the many similarities between his current self and Minato Namikaze. Not only similarities in looks but also in actions; Arashi Senju was still, in essence, Naruto Uzumaki, and habits that define him as such were not at all removed from his personality.

He honestly didn't know what to do but keep pushing forward and hope for the best. While he wished he could tell Kakashi the truth, he had to keep his mouth shut; his promise to the Hokage flashed in his mind —Tell nobody who you really are. He had to fulfill this to the bitter end no matter how much it hurt to finally see his surrogate older brother again but still act like strangers.

The sound of the morning bell derailed his train of thought as the class quieted down and headed for their seats. Even Ino and Sakura, who were still arguing over something when the bell came, sauntered over their designated seats as the class as a whole waited for the homeroom teacher to arrive.

While they might have acted like kids of their age moments before, the fact that this was the Ninja Academy, a school dedicated to creating Konoha's best shinobi the country has ever produced, could not be ignored. They were given leeway to play around and act as kids, but in the classroom during class time, age and innocence were thrown to the back of every little mind as the instructors did their part and instill honor, duty, loyalty, and, most of all, discipline to the future shinobi of Konoha.

Iruka Umino, Class 2-3's homeroom teacher, entered the classroom and stood behind the podium. The class rep ordered the student body to rise from their seats, bow to the teacher as they recite 'Good morning, sensei' in synchronized chorus, and reseat themselves.

With the standard morning greeting ritual finished, Iruka said, "Good morning, class. Now before we start roll call, I'd first like you to meet a new instructor in this wonderful institution." He turned to the open door and nodded subtly.

This is it, Arashi thought, here comes Kakashi-nii-san. His heartbeat went a little faster, his palms began to sweat, and his eyes were solely fixed on the open doorway where on the other side was a living remnant of a past he had left behind.

But the person who entered was from what he expected and the complete shock on his face was evident for all to see. The person walked into the classroom, gathering a few whispers and sighs of astonishment from the more outspoken children, and stood beside Iruka.

"Good morning, Class 2-3," the person bowed politely. "My name is Kurenai Hatake, and I'll be substituting for Nodoka Mishima for the rest of the year. It's a pleasure to meet you all."

Arashi spent gawking at Kurenai the rest of the homeroom period.

"You don't look to be in the best of moods," Ino said as she and Arashi walked home together. "Did something happen?"

"No, not really," Arashi replied, a little off and distracted, judging from the sound of his voice, "just shell shocked, I guess."

"From what?"

"From Hatake-sensei."

"What? Is she your type?"

"No! I mean I was expecting someone totally different."

"I'll have you know, Hatake-sensei is happily married."

"You're ignoring me again, Ino."

"And with good reason."

Arashi doubted that. It was just her teasing him, because she knew that he hated being ignored.

"I think you have a thing for committed women," she added.

He processed that sentence for a total of six seconds before he shouted his outburst, his indignation, his denial.

"Right," she drawled, clearly not willing to believe the truth and sticking to her half-assed deductions. If she were trying to imitate Shikamaru, she was doing a poor job at it.

And where's your proof, huh? he wanted to demand, but at the last moment went for silence instead. Even if he were to voice that out, she wouldn't budge on the subject; she was much more stubborn than he was. And, more likely, he didn't want to experience the same riposte she gave to Sakura earlier in the day. As far as his mind had already predicted the outcome of their conversation, continuing with the argument would only be a waste of breath.

"I give up," he said, putting his hands in his pockets and looking away. He tended to avoid eye contact when things went sour on his side of their quasi-arguments, but Ino took it in good stride, finding his avoidance as his own way of acting like a child pouting after losing. For his part, he tried all he could to put his attention elsewhere for a little while. Woah, didn't know the supermarket was having a sale this Sunday.

"You give up too easily, Arashi," Ino said after the silence between them expanded into three quarters of a minute, which was essentially the longest they had stayed quiet with each other. There was always something they talked about whenever they got together, and neither got bored of the other's company. "Girls won't find you appealing if this keeps up."

"I'll live." Seriously, what was the deal with relationships? He understood the concept of love and the act of preserving the species through procreation, but he never could understand his adopted father's fixation with ogling other women's private parts. Oh! Those are breasts, so what? Oh my! That's a cute kitty you have (as he read from one of the lines in Jiraiya's latest manuscript before Chiyome confiscated it . . . and started reading it herself while giggling in such a way that, for some reason, was much more disturbing than when their father does it), so what? Granted, he still blushed from seeing naked women, but that was more of a biological reaction than anything less innocent. As far as he knew about romantic love and sexual attraction, he never experienced anything so intense that he became fixated to it. Too young to understand, it seemed.

"Whatever gave you the idea that I'm interested in committed women anyway, Ino?"

"Gawking at Hatake-sensei for the most part of the class—like all the other boys—was my second clue. The first happens to be . . . here."

They both stopped just outside the Yamanaka flower shop. And as his gaze came to the clear window, where inside there was a view of the cashier's counter and the one tending to flower buyers, his stomach turned over itself and the urge to run as far away as his feet could take him came close to overtaking his reason and his will. Judging from the cocky grin Ino sported, she had spotted his nervousness, a feeling caused by a completely different reason from what she had surmised in her wrongful detective skills.

"She's single," he argued.

"Yeah, but she's also a widow. Meaning she was a committed woman."

"The emphasis on 'was' is good. Keep that in mind. She's not committed otherwise."

"Should I say that you're interested in older women instead?"

"Uh . . ."

"I rest my case," she said, nodding her head as if somebody already told her it was 'case closed.' "Your face tells it all, by the way."

The sad thing about this situation was that Arashi couldn't say anything to rebuke her, unless he wanted to tell her the real reason why the sight of the cashier unnerved him.

"Aren't you coming inside?" Ino was standing under the doorway, keeping the door open for him.

He complied with her hidden request and entered the flower shop. A glance at the clock behind the counter read 4:57. The Yamanaka flower shop was the same as when he visited here two weeks ago. His sensitive nose was assaulted by the multiple fragrances of different types of flowers, from daisies near the counter to the tulips just to his right to the daffodils farther into the shop to the well-cared orchids beside the white roses. It was . . . breathtaking, in a way, and he made sure to have his nose get as much pleasure as it could before he left.

"Welcome!" the cashier greeted, tucking a few strands of her long crimson hair behind her ear. "Ah, Ino-chan, welcome back."

"Hi, Kushina-san. Is Daddy here?"

Kushina Uzumaki removed her apron and hung it up to the lower right of the wall clock. "He's at the back, inventorying the deliveries."

"Okay, thanks." As she was about to exit alongside the last customer of the day, she turned to Arashi and said, "Stay here and keep her company." She winked. "See ya."

"Wha—? Ino!" Too late. The door already closed behind her with the jingling of the door chimes. Damn her.

"How has the academy been, Arashi-kun?" Kushina asked, walking towards the store window to flip over the OPEN sign to CLOSED. "I heard it was Kurenai's first day today."

"Kurenai? Oh, you mean Hatake-sensei."

This was the current state of their relationship, no acknowledgment, no parental love, no close bond, even when the part of Arashi that still wished to become Naruto Uzumaki again screamed and yelled and cried for his mother to see him as he was before, but all of that was just wishful thinking on his part.

"Yeah. How was she? Was she nervous?"

"I don't know. I think she did well for her first day. Unlike Nodoka-sensei, none of us in the class were close to dozing off."

She let out a tiny giggle. "You boys were probably enraptured by her beauty. That blush on your face proves my point."

"It—it's nothing like that." He looked away, enclosing his vision on the individual petals of the flowers he first lay his eyes on. "By the way," he continued, still looking away, "when did Hatake-sensei get married?"

"Two weeks ago. Kakashi and Kurenai decided against a formal wedding, opting instead to just sign their marriage license to make it official. No reception or anything. To me, I think they're being too practical." Her eyes narrowed wistfully. "You don't get married every day after all."

"Kakashi and Kurenai, huh. I never would've guessed." Big fat lie, just like all the lies he had been telling her after the Second Coming. He had been aware of the relationship since they made it official two years ago. But the thought of marriage didn't register in his head until Kurenai entered that classroom with the Hatake surname and a gold band on her ring finger. He was getting sloppy on information gathering.

"Their engagement before marriage was short-lived, you could say." She gazed at the window, watching but not really seeing the distorted figures of passers-by as her eyes lost their focus. "Just like Minato and me."

"You still miss him?"

"Of course I do. My love for him is, now and forever, eternal. Even when he's gone, even when I know that if he were to see me now, he'd be telling me to move on and find someone else to fill the gap left in my heart . . . but it's not that easy to forget, Arashi-kun. It's never easy."

No, Arashi thought, that's where you're wrong, Mom.

Arashi didn't like seeing his real mother sad, sometimes it was best to let things come and go as they pleased. She was hurt, but not in the physical sense, and this was not yet his expertise. He knew little about psychology and the many undiscovered capabilities of the human psyche, but compared to a well-trained mind-walker, his would-be attempts at consolation meant nothing in the face of what the professional could do. And that was exactly what the professional had done to Kushina, ensured that whatever damage her psyche had been through from all the trauma her tragic life bombarded her with, it would be cleaned, disinfected, and bandaged. The unfortunate outcome, however, was not without its own bit of heartache.

If he had wanted to tell Kushina about his true identity, she would've known since day one; there was no comprehensible way for Arashi to lie to his mother. It went far beyond his morals and love for the woman, but like all things that had become when he first woke up from the hospital bed as a different boy: he didn't have a choice. Kushina didn't know he was really Naruto Uzumaki and he couldn't even tell her the truth because—

Kushina took a deep breath and ran a hand on her flat stomach. "I just wish I had something to remember him by."

—to her, Naruto Uzumaki never existed. This was the price she (and implicitly, Naruto as well) had to pay to undo enough of the psychological strain to make her face life with an easy, if jagged and a little cynical, smile, to have her out of the mental hospital and try living again.

It was Inoichi Yamanaka who had done the operation, sealing every trace of the memories linking him to his mother, and just like that, Naruto Uzumaki had completely and truly died. Nobody mourned his death, nobody talked of his demise, nobody acknowledged he was the Fourth's son anymore. Not even his own mother.

Despite her wish to resume active duty as a Konoha shinobi, her record for mental instability made her unfit for it, but she was at least being paid handsomely for her retirement funds. Yet she wasn't satisfied with living a slacker life on a fat paycheck; that was not how she was brought up. So she opted to take a part-time job here in the Yamanaka flower shop, and Arashi had been coming to see her ever since. She was, however, registered for irregular hours, so nobody could be surprised if she were to work on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday on the first week, but Monday, Tuesday, and Friday on the second. Third happened to be just Wednesday, by the way. This made tracking her activities difficult, but Arashi didn't mind. Seeing her made his struggles worth it.

But in every meeting they had, he always felt equal parts happiness and despair, because even though just being near Kushina induced him with a faint state of euphoria, whatever fantasies he thought about were crushed by reality and the lack of adoration her eyes always showered him with. Gray eyes to gray eyes, a bridging symmetry between mother and son. The fantasy shattered just as his mind thought of the clash of cerulean blue and ash gray.

Nothing was ever the same.

Kushina shook her head slowly and faced him with a smile. "I'm sorry for rambling. I shouldn't be telling you my problems."

Steeling himself, lest his voice come out as a heap of broken pitches and tones, he replied, "No, no, it's all right. I don't mind." I don't mind if you look at me more, Mom. "How are you, though? Is everything all right, Kushina-san?"

"I'd be lying if I said everything's fine." She returned her gaze to the window. "But I'm coping as best I could. Inoichi-san has been very kind and patient."

As far as Kushina knew, she went through a nervous breakdown two years ago and was evaluated for latent post-traumatic stress disorder. Inoichi volunteered to be her watch until Tsunade cleared her case. It was a slow going process, and even though Kushina was mentally sound and stable, she couldn't go anywhere without the mind-walker's supervision. So taking the register job seemed the most suitable position to keep the two close. What she didn't know, however, was that Inoichi had been tasked to ensure the memory-wipe was maintained and sturdy. The need for this was due to a previous incident wherein Kushina somehow remembered the existence of her son through random—yet at the same time patterned in some way—elements that triggered her recollection. It was time best left forgotten, but Arashi always turned back to that day when his urge to tell her the truth came close to becoming unbearable. He didn't want her to be sad, but he also didn't want to be the cause of it.

It was better this way, perhaps, but hell, trying to wrap his head around the idea was the easy part. It was the doing part that was difficult, but he was adapting well enough.

The chimes jingled and jangled. Inoichi and his daughter came into the shop.

"Oh, Arashi-kun," Inoichi said, raising his hand in greeting, "you're back again."

"Good afternoon, Yamanaka-san. Closing shop early today?"

"Yes, I promised Ino here"—he patted her head, despite knowing she hated it when he did that—"that I'd take her out to the new grill restaurant Chouza opened up. I hear nothing but rave reviews from the papers."

"But didn't they just open last Saturday?" Kushina inquired.

"Yeah, but Chouza is friends with one of the editors of the Konoha Times, so they gave each other early services." He snorted amusedly, looking like he expected this from his old friend and teammate.

"You wanna come with us, Arashi?" Ino asked, one hand on her hip, the other straightening the hair strands disturbed by her father's patting.

I don't want to impose, he wanted to say, but he was interrupted.

"It's my treat, Arashi," the older Yamanaka said, "and besides, it's better to eat with more people. I don't think three is considered a crowd."

"Three?"

"Of course, three!" Ino said, smiling in a way he was all too familiar with, one that he didn't want to be the recipient of, unfortunately. "Ooba-san (tr. 'Auntie') is coming with us." She meant Kushina.

If there was anything that could make Arashi accept an invitation within a heartbeat other than the promise of a free ramen buffet, it would be spending more time with his redhead mother. Ino might take his agreement as another clue to her 'You like older women' theory, but he didn't really mind. The time spent being with his mother, to hear more of her voice, to hear more of her laugh, to see more of her smile . . . it was all worth it.

Time served plenty of purposes to a patient man, and Itachi possessed this trait in spades. But patience and urgency often clashed, especially when the latter became too important to let time slip away the chance for him to take the leap of faith. It was his ultimatum, the moment that would define now and forever, but he was stuck between duty to his clan and duty to his village.

But time and patience no longer served him like they did before. He was now forced to take a side and he chose the village. The planned coup of the Uchiha clan must not come to fruition . . . even if he had to stain his hands with every blood of the clan to do so.

He stood on the roof of his family home, staring at the bright visage of the crescent moon as an icy gale prickled his exposed skin. Donning his ANBU uniform sans the porcelain mask, he was prepared for battle but not for the emotional wreck his heart was turning into. He closed his eyes tightly, hands turning into shaking fists, as he ground his teeth against each other. He took a deep breath through his nose and the gaps in his teeth, embracing the menthol-like feel of the cold entering his system, and let it out in a slow, calm blow.

Tonight was the night. Blood would be spilled tonight.

At nine o'clock that evening, Fugaku Uchiha was in his study, reading one of the old scrolls locked within the secret chamber of the clan head's library. It pertained to nothing much of importance; he merely picked this one up at random, hoping to pass the time until his elder son arrived.

The door to his study slid open, and the candle on his desk almost died from the invading wind. The way it flickered . . . Fugaku resisted the need to shiver. It felt like a bad omen.

"Itachi, glad you could make it," he said, and rolled the scroll up. "Have you heard anything recently about the Hokage's suspicions?"

Itachi said nothing.

"Itachi?"

He stepped to the center of the room, surveyed his study, and glared right at him, the Sharingan blazing with unequaled fury on the surface of his irises. "It ends tonight, father."

Fugaku growled inaudibly. "So . . . this is how it goes, Itachi. You chose the Senju over the Uchiha?"

"This isn't about the Senju anymore, father. You intend to gain full control of Konoha, even if it means you have to take it by force."

"I thought you were old enough to understand, but I guess I was mistaken like how I have mistaken where your loyalty lies." Fugaku leaned back on his chair before standing up, his own Sharingan activating, but unlike Itachi's, his were cold and distorted.

A mere trick of the light, Itachi thought, but the guess hold little merit to his gut feeling, which was churning like crazy, trying to force his fight-or-flee response to act on the latter. He unsheathed his ninja-to.

His father raised one hand, presenting it to him like he wanted him to take it. "Real power is never given." He then formed his open hand into a fist. "It's taken."

"You're tarnishing the Uchiha name with this injustice!"

"Injustice?" He shook his head ruefully. "No, Itachi, I am seeking justice for those who have wronged us, our clan. Madara Uchiha had been right not to trust the Senju, and we are here now to reap what we sowed. But no more. The Uchiha will prosper again."

"Only in your delusions, father." He readied into a kenjutsu stance, intending to kill with one thrust to the heart.

"My poor, poor boy. Are you really ready to face your mentor, the one who taught you everything you know?"

"I've long since surpassed you."

"Only in your delusions, son." His smile was bursting with malicious intent, but Itachi didn't quiver, didn't hesitate, didn't give time for second thoughts.

It would've been wise if he did.

Itachi lunged towards his father, the tip of his ninja-to inching closer and closer to Fugaku's left chest, all while the man himself was still smiling. It was that smile that tipped Itachi off, that ignited his gut feeling to take the flight response, but he followed his instincts too late. Fugaku's Sharingan was on him, crimson red glaring at crimson red, before it began to morph into something Itachi thought to have only been a legend.

The Mangekyou Sharingan.

"Tsukuyomi," his father whispered, and Itachi's world turned black.

Fugaku exited his study, nursing his bleeding right eye, and took notice of the one waiting for him outside.

Shisui Uchiha leaned on the side of the door, arms crossed, with a stoic look on his face. "Is it done?"

He nodded. "You were right."

"I know how Itachi thinks, Fugaku-sama. I'm glad you took precautions."

"And at what price?"

"Do you regret it?"

His mind conjured the image of his sleeping wife. She was nestled on his chest, a glow on her cheeks and a smile on her lips as she bathed in post-coital bliss. It would be the last time they made love with such vigor and love, and so he savored that moment of peace for as long as he could.

He then snapped her neck. She was asleep; it was quick; it was painless. He truly loved her, which made killing her all the more important. To achieve the Mangekyou, the pinnacle of the Sharingan's hidden potential, it had to be done. Itachi had been right when he said he already surpassed his father, and the only trump the boy could possibly fall for was the use of their dojutsu's dark transcendence, one thought only to be legend and awakened from one Uchiha every century. A myth so far from the truth, yet Fugaku could understand the need for diverting the true source of the Mangekyou's awakening—killing a loved one to feel and kindle the despair and hatred and rage sealed inside every Uchiha's hearts. He understood now. His clan was cursed to the dark emotions of humanity.

Love. Family. To Fugaku, they mattered no more. His heart was wrenched from his chest when he heard the audible snap of his wife's spinal column. His heart was then skewered and left to bleed out like a struggling animal when he used his very first Mangekyou technique on his own son, forced to listen as his reverberating screams sought for someone to hear and help him out of his misery, although it was fruitless due to the soundproof walls.

Now that family tragedies were over, Fugaku rouse from the ocean of despair into a being without a heart. He thought of Sasuke, how the little boy would still be in his bed blissfully unaware that his mother was dead and his older brother was close to dead and his father had been the cause of it all, and banished the concern trying to wrap itself in whatever void his heart had once been in. There was no need to think about needless worries. Time was against him and his clan; there was none left to waste.

"Wake the others," Fugaku ordered to Shisui. "The coup will begin tonight."

Shisui's eyes widened a fraction before resettling into their stoic visage. "And what of Itachi? I don't believe you had the heart to kill your prodigy."

"He is unable to fight as he is now." That much, Fugaku was certain. But . . . "But I'm not willing to take chances. Kill him."

"Yes, sir," Shisui replied within a heartbeat, and entered the study.

Fugaku walked away, his head filled with the detailed plans he and his clansmen had formulated for their revolution. For better or worse, the Uchiha would finally strike back at the Senju and their supporters. Everything was in place.

At 3 AM, with all Sharingan eyes in the village active and battle-hardened, the Uchiha started the civil war that almost brought the end to the Hidden Leaf Village.

Chapter Afterword:

I had two things to say about the Mangekyou Sharingan. First, I know some of you nitpickers will say that I got the eye position wrong (Tsukuyomi is on the left eye, blah blah blah), but I didn't. Sasuke's two first Mangekyou powers were positioned reversely in reference to Itachi's, as it is already stated quite clearly in the manga and anime. The second thing is Fugaku use of the Sharingan on Itachi. In Itachi and Sasuke's final battle in canon, Itachi stated that the only people who can destroy his Tsukuyomi illusion are the Sharingan of his family, which is how Sasuke escaped and Kakashi didn't. Here, this kind of Priori Incantatem (please excuse my Harry Potter reference, but it is the closest meaning I can think of) doesn't occur. I omitted that to suit my needs in this story. I can also just simply say that it is another difference between the canon world and this alternate universe. Haha.