Chapter Four: Strength to Carry On
"I'm not upset
that you lied to me,
I'm upset that
from now on
I can't believe you."
-Friedrich Nietzsche
Some days, Sarutobi Hiruzen revels in how mundane his life has become. Even though he is, in essence, the ruler of a military nation, it's a peaceful military nation. Sarutobi grew on a diet of war and now that there is peace, he sometimes finds it so alien it feels like a dream.
The village loves him, he knows - and though some part of his mind and ego want to claim the peace and prosperity as his own, the other, greater part knows that this is not the case. He is just a face to associate with the current good times, and if some altercation between border patrols causes the ever-rambunctious Iwa to declare war on them, he would be the face of the hard times and rations and deaths.
The position of Hokage is such a burden to bear - at times unbearably heavy, at times breath of helium, lifting into flight.
But at times like these, when no wars loom on the horizon, it should be unbelievably light. Until, of course, Sarutobi is reminded that he is old and complacent and, despite all evidence to the contrary, just as prone to mistakes as any other human.
In hindsight, with time and space and the knowledge of what happened to guide him, Sarutobi sees it all clearly.
Of course, it must have been frightening for Naruto to find the Hokage waiting at her door. And it must have been even more terrifying when he took her to the INT Department, hoping to save himself some paperwork and avoid his office (which was designed for the express purpose of intimidation). But all his good intentions naturally went to waste when he was called to deal with an important ANBU mission and offhandedly told one of the 'receptionists' to "put her in a room" - meaning, of course, to just get her out of the lobby. Sarutobi can't even blame the receptionist because, in hindsight, "a room" is a common enough colloquialism for the torture rooms.
Some days, Sarutobi Hiruzen basks in the mundaneness of peace. Today is just not one of those days.
It has been ten years since Yamanaka Inoichi last set foot in this building. Ten years, and he hasn't missed it at all.
Sure, the sound of people screaming assaults him like a long lost friend, as soon as he descends into the lower, less sanctioned parts of the Department, but it's a friend he almost wishes would stay lost. And the contrived smell of fresh blood and hot-out-of-the-throat vomit is as familiar as his mother's perfume – or, more fittingly, the garbage rack outside his neighbor's butcher shop. But either of those he can stand. What Inoichi hates most is how the people walking briskly around with hardened faces and bloody, nameless devices (bloody, nameless files, bloody, nameless papers, words paid for in full by blood) in their hands will bow to him, and how their expressions will change to reverent shades of respect. It reminds him, all too well, of his own bloody past.
No, Yamanaka Inoichi doesn't miss the Intelligence Department. He doesn't miss the 'dignified' aboveground facilities, nor does he miss the 'not-for-your-eyes' underground torture cells.
The Intelligence Department. Data collection through INT, or Interrogation, Networking, and Torture. Interrogation and data processing are the only aboveground sections; after all, processing is fairly harmless, even if it has to be well protected, and interrogation is a benign form of questioning. But the spy network and the torture chambers have to be kept from all official documentation and all foreign officials.
The Intelligence Department. A collection of the legal, the bordering-on-illegal, the legal-only-because-the-government-is-doing-it, and the downright illegal.
The Intelligence Department. Inoichi's oldest home.
Inoichi had sworn never to enter the place again. And if not for the direct order of his commander in chief, the Hokage, he wouldn't even have considered it. But the Hokage ordered, and so he walks toward the designated room with some trepidation and not a little bit of anger.
But all thoughts fly out of his head – every bit about orders, everything about past promises, every last piece of past reminiscence – when he enters the room.
There is a girl in the room.
A girl, in the soundproofed sterile white – a girl (not that little children are any less dangerous than adults) in a cell specifically designed to pull people out of their comfort ranges, to pull them into a sense of being alone despite the recorded screams and well-placed scents and blood splatters that they were led through. A cell designed to make people think that others had died, and that they would die soon, and that afterwards there would be nothing left of them but white. A cell designed to make people remember that his clan, the Yamanaka clan, could destroy their minds utterly, taking all they tried to protect, and Konoha's power could likely destroy even the memory of them after they had gone.
A girl is in that room. But not even that.
The problem is that Inoichi knows her immediately. And then he knows her again. He knows her by two names and he is so blind not to have seen it before. It's obvious now that he sees her, and he can't help but wonder at the marvelous deception she must have pulled off. Another part of him is berating himself for getting soft, for not watching carefully, for not catching the greenest kind of newbie on a mission to fool him.
A thousand thoughts race through his head. But foremost is Ino, and his heart leaps into his throat at the thought of her or the something in her voice or her words or her eyes.
Namikaze – no, Uzumaki – Naruto turns, and everything, even Ino, is wiped away.
The only thing that Yamanaka Inoichi can see for three and a half seconds is Namikaze Minato's broken body in a pool of crimson on the ground, surrounded by a foul, poisonous miasma of chakra and the crowd of stiff killers in muted shades of color gathered around him, heads bowed in tribute to the greatest man that ever lived before them.
But after that, even the image that haunted Inoichi for weeks or months or even years after the Kyuubi attack is overshadowed by Naruto's smile. "Hey," she says, "You're Ino's dad, right?"
Inoichi remembers in a rush that he is not an enemy shinobi, not a nameless interrogator, not a foreboding Yamanaka, but a father. He falters in that moment because his identity now is the father of his Ino, a husband and flower-seller and occasional advice-giver. In that rush, in that moment, Inoichi feels the heavy weight of shame, heavier than the weight of a humid Konoha sky bearing down, heavier than the body of a broken comrade, heavier than the sound of his many sins.
Inoichi smiles. It's too tight for comfort, too strained and unnatural by his standards, but he doesn't doubt that she doesn't notice it. He had been the best in his field, after all, and a decade of retirement would still place him above her in terms of skill. Even if a decade of retirement has eroded his skills to this point - to the point where this can affect him.
"Yes," he says. "C'mon, let's get you out of here."
The break of trust happens like this: in order to trust, they lie. In order to lie, they break that trust.
The break of trust takes only one day.
The break of trust begins like this: Inoichi smiles.
The room has two open windows, decorated with pale blue and yellow patterned curtains. A small, round mahogany desk rests in between them, laden with the weight of the truly enormous bouquet of sunflowers atop it.
Inoichi settles himself in the worn cloth couch beside the girl and hands her a glass of orange juice. Naruto, much less suspicious and jittery but still tense, takes it and sips at it cautiously.
Inoichi smiles.
"I was so surprised when I heard about you," he begins gently. "I thought you had died years ago. Where have you been, all this time?"
Her hands shake and the orange juice sloshes around in the cup. She takes another long sip, her eyes moving quickly, and finally answers: "In Konoha."
Even though Inoichi knows not to go into an interrogation - or anything, really - with previous assumptions, he's still surprised by this. He was certain that, even if it was a misdirecting lie, she would name some other place. To even think that she could have been here the whole time, right under their noses… It is entirely too plausible.
"That's surprising," he says, carrying on the conversation as if it feels comfortable. "I thought for sure that you had gone somewhere else."
"How would I get anywhere else?" She blurts, surprised.
Ah, Inoichi thinks. His smile is beginning to stretch at his muscles. "We thought maybe somebody had taken you," he admits.
Instantly he realizes his mistake. She stiffens at the word we and slides so her feet touch the ground. "Who else is there?" She asks jumpily.
"I mean my wife and I," he lies easily, smiling again. "We knew your father," he says, and watches as her eyes flit from the window to his eyes. "He saved my life." Her mouth opens ever so slightly, but no sound comes out. "He was the greatest ninja I had ever known, and he saved all of our lives." Stop talking, Inoichi. Something in her eyes, in the lines too old for her young face, something compels him to continue. "As long as you don't pose a danger to my family or Konoha, I would never be your enemy."
"You knew my father?" She swallows, "You… Could you tell me more about him? What was he like? Did he…" Looking distinctly uncomfortable, she trails off.
Inoichi tries not to wonder what she wanted to say. "I'm afraid that it isn't my place to tell you," he said. "That should be left to your godfather, or somebody closer to you. But you should know that he was a wonderful ninja and the greatest man I've ever known."
When he leaves, Naruto sits on the ground under the window and thinks. She has more questions than answers, and still she doesn't know if it's right to trust this man. For instance, if he had known about her all this time, why was it only now that she knew about him? How did he come to take her out of the building where the Hokage had imprisoned her?
And there is another thing.
There is another thing, a half-forgotten dream. A dream so sweet and lost that now remembering it hurts more than not having it in the first place.
Because, ever since she was terribly little, Naruto has dreamt of a family. In the orphanage, she was convinced that all her problems would go away, if only her family showed up. And she dreamt of them. She dreamt of them when it was cold and when she was lonely and when she couldn't bear anything else.
She dreamt that a woman would sweep in, smelling of freshly baked bread and green grass and sunshine, and gather her into warm arms and whisper, Oh, my sweet Naruto, we have been looking for you everywhere – and now we've finally found you! And her father would say, It's time to go home, kiddo. And there would be a dog and a little brother and no worries and no attic and no pink or cute or soft. Those early dreams remained faceless and nameless, though sometimes she would assign them honey blonde hair, or deliberate that her mother should have cornflower blue eyes, her favorite crayon color, and her father should have periwinkle eyes. The only thing that remained consistent were their smiles and the feeling of warm arms.
They made her okay again.
It was much later that she felt the need to dream again.
She dreamt of sky blue eyes and a faint gold stubble and gravity-defying hair. She dreamt of a hero – the hero, with a flee-on-sight order and, if the stories were true, practically single-handedly won Konoha the last war. A father that would be safe and big and strong, the best ninja in the whole world. Naruto knew to dream big, so she sometimes dreamt that Namikaze Minato was her father.
But in her quieter moments she would think about how the hero became the hero by giving up his life for the village. And she would wonder, secretly, that such a great love for the village was terrifying, and she couldn't hope to compete. A good ninja, willing to die for Konoha and willing to kill for Konoha and willing to live for Konoha – could a good ninja really be a good parent?
And at those times Naruto would go take a walk to the marketplace, and wistfully watch the civilian families. The maimed, out-of-commission ex-shinobi playing with their daughters and long-haired women that still walked with a certain grace carrying their sons to different stalls, threading through the crowds with ease.
But most often, Naruto doesn't dream of a father at all.
Most often, when she closes her eyes, Naruto dreams of her mothers. All three of them.
The faceless, sweet-smelling woman had long since disappeared. Even when she closes her eyes now, Naruto can see three distinct faces in the black.
Inoichi leaves Naruto in his guest room, confident in the knowledge that there are guards, and that his wife is spending the weekend at the offices, and Ino is at a sleepover.
He has an inkling of where to go.
After all, if Naruto has truly been in Konoha all this time, there is only one place so close to home that is yet so far from home and so full of lost people that she could have conceivably hid there.
One discreet inquiry to the Mistress of Lotus House, and Inoichi is on the fast track to Velvet House.
He holds out hope until the words left the geisha's mouth. There was hope that she hadn't been in a whorehouse, but merely in the red light district. A gambling place, perhaps? Or the hope that she was in Lotus House, one of the more respectable ones, a place for entertainment and fine dining and talented geisha, while Velvet is more on the next tier, a place for entertainment and alcohol and talented whores.
It seems that the people here have long memories – long enough to remember his name from the war. He steps up to Velvet and raps sharply on the door.
As soon as it opens he demands, "Get me the Lady of this House." It almost takes a conscious effort not to let his voice twist and his face contort at how odd the word Lady tastes in his mouth. But there is a certain code in INT dealings with the establishments, and it doesn't matter how much Inoichi believes it to be a lie as long as it works.
The girl bows hurriedly. Inoichi ignores the bruise on her back. A girl behind her runs off and she straightens and smiles. "Please, sir, sit and have a drink while you are waiting."
"No drink," he says, but follows her to a chair. She sits before him, face serene, back ramrod straight, her shoulders back and chest forward. Displaying her assets, he thinks, not unkindly. "Relax," he commands. "I am here on official business."
She smiles politely but doesn't relax her posture at all. "It isn't polite to show less of ourselves," she says by way of explanation. "Whether you are a customer or not."
An older woman sweeps into the room and the girl stands and walks out smoothly, with a gait almost as gliding as a kunoichi's. A former kunoichi, Inoichi guesses. Many of them are, after all. Some broken kunoichi go to whorehouses just as some broken shinobi go to manual labor. The circle of life, in a ninja city.
"Sir, I am Lady Tessa," the woman says, drawing his eyes back to her. Her makeup is tasteful if on the heavy side, her hair elaborate (and probably dirty) and her aged face taut with tension. "What brings you to our humble… institution?" She smiles, and a flash of her teeth shows blackened, tea-stained teeth – but her smile closes almost immediately, the sign of a conscious effort to hide it.
"Several years ago, a young girl lived here as a runner," he says. "Tell me everything you know about her and bring me everybody involved with her."
She freezes, her face twitching as an emotion appears and she wipes it off just as fast as it is there. "I didn't know you would come!" She exclaims after a brief and pregnant pause. "Or else I would not have sold them…"
"Sold them?"
"Yes, the two girls that were involved with Rutoshi were auctioned off the month after she disappeared," she explains, "for disobeying House rules. They took care of her and taught her rudimentary kunoichi things, like chakra manipulation and womanly necessities. From what I hear, they were her teachers and mothers. The other girls haven't really worked with her and I didn't take an interest in our little runner. She was cheap, costing only room and board, and a diligent, efficient girl."
Inoichi decides to pursue this line of questioning before delving into some of the other questions the Lady's little explanation brings up. "Where are they now?"
Tessa looks slightly startled. "Oh, they're almost certainly dead," she says, with a lilt in her voice. "It's a shame, really, they were lovely girls, but there's a reason I don't sell my girls unless they've made trouble for the House. But you know what they say," she titters – it sounds awful coming from her makeup-caked, wrinkled mouth. "Death is inevitable. It just calls sooner for some."
Inoichi returns to talk to Naruto several times after ascertaining that she had, in fact, stayed in Konoha. Mostly he prods at her loyalties, trying to discern if she still loves Konoha.
But the last time is the only time she initiates the conversation.
He settles himself on the couch as always and hands her a glass of orange juice. She sets it on the table next to slowly fading sunflowers and talks before he can.
It is a question.
"What happened to Nonoko-sensei?" She asks, like it is the most innocent question in the world. It's nearing noontime and the light streams in through the window, throwing a halo of light around her.
He feels inexplicably guilty.
Maybe that influences his almost foolish - certainly strange - decision to try for the truth. "She was taken in for questioning. When nothing came up, she was subjected to Yamanaka mind techniques," he says. "The Hokage thought she had taken you away from Konoha, you see."
He means it to imply care, to imply that the Hokage worries for her, but instead he watches her face tense up at just the mention of the title.
Naruto only reacts this way to the Hokage's name. Even when Inoichi led her around Konoha to further the illusion of freedom, he only bears witness to a relaxed face and cheerful greetings to people even he does not know the names of. After settling at Ichiraku Ramen for a meal, he watched her face and no longer wondered how this seemingly genuine, heartfelt boy had escaped the notice of Konoha.
Even though the so-called civilians of Konoha are in actuality ninja at heart, even though the baker is a crippled Chuunin, the clerk a failed Genin, and even Ichiraku himself the son of a former Jounin, even though they should have noticed - for a moment Inoichi even fools himself.
It may be blonde hair and blue eyes and a smile that is ingrained deeply as trustworthy and just worthy in the depths of his subconsciousness.
It may be the seamless way Naruto turns into Shindou, the way that in the sun and smiles of everybody around them, it seems all too real.
It may be his own unfathomably, unforgivably persistent weakness.
"Why?" She asks, softly.
It may be any number of things that compels him to answer, again, truthfully, to the hint of something great in her eyes, something he does not want to lie to, something he instinctively trusts will stay true to Konoha if only Konoha stays true to her.
And nothing is more powerful than the truth - Inoichi knows this better than anyone.
Nevertheless, he is a little surprised when the truth comes tumbling out. It is only a half-conscious decision, hastily rushing across his tongue to the air.
"Nonoko was one of the many people who migrated to Konoha about a decade ago. We always get many refugees and converters, but a decade ago Konoha was in a delicate enough position to accept most of them in order to keep our military power and prosperity. She was very talented, and she passed the initial screening tests; when she applied to become an instructor at the Academy, the INT Division subjected her to heavy background checks, as they do for all teachers. However, her actions regarding you were very suspicious, and even higher authorities examined her background and found it lacking. So she was brought in for questioning."
A strong, terrible, undead silence.
"Why me?"
"Pardon?"
Naruto grimaces, her face contorting in heavy emotions, and Inoichi pulls himself back a little at the strangled voice that comes out of her mouth. "Why did they care? Why did Nonoko-sensei suffer for helping me? What's so special about me that I'm not allowed to be-"
There is a moment of silence and Inoichi almost - almost tells her everything she cannot know.
But he doesn't.
It may be any number of things that has Inoichi wondering why old loyalty runs so deep that even he cannot fathom a reason behind it any longer.
The break of trust happens in an hour.
No, even less than that. The continuation of Naruto's long entrance into the jaded, lying, grey areas of the ninja world happens in only the amount of time it takes Inoichi to whisper "Sorry" and the ANBU to Shunshin with them to the Hokage's office.
As she stands before the Old Man in the Hat With the Power to Destroy Nations, she trembles.
As she stands before the Man Who on a Whim Destroyed Her Life she has an epiphany.
As Naruto stands before the Hokage she understands.
Sarutobi steeples his fingers in front of his face and closes his eyes.
Inoichi came to him with a frigidness in his expression and caustic acid in his voice and some kind of hard emotion directed vaguely toward Sarutobi (but not so directed as to be treasonous, for Inoichi is an ever careful man), but Sarutobi doesn't regret calling him back. Inoichi has always been the most delicate, the most sensitive of the intelligence operatives – or at least the most delicate out of the ones with enough clearance for this – and he doesn't care to see how well Mitarashi Anko or Morino Ibiki fare with untrusting children.
And above all, Inoichi is right.
And because of Inoichi, Sarutobi has a good idea of everything that has happened in Naruto's life up until now. It is thanks to Inoichi and his careful handling of the situation that Sarutobi knows he can trust the girl in front of him to be much the same girl that left - only with a few added years in a dirtier part of Konoha.
He smiles his grandfather smile but he knows it doesn't reach his eyes and from her stone expression it doesn't reach her either.
"Naruto," he names her.
"Hokage-sama." Her eyes drift to the ground, her features settling in a perfect neutral mask of decorum. But Sarutobi has been a shinobi for nearly all his life - or so close that it could at the very least round up - and a politician for about a decade too long, and he can see the fear in the trembling of her fingers and her shaky breathing.
And then he is struck by a revelation, of sorts.
Naruto is a child. All this time, chasing her shadow and then discovering the fantastic feat she'd pulled off right under their noses (what this said about her capabilities or his shinobis' lack thereof he didn't want to consider), he had come to view her as a target.
Objective A.
But this is Minato and Kushina's daughter, and she is the granddaughter who ran into his office and asked for ramen years ago, and even though her eyes are wary and she is scared of him now-
Even though he hasn't watched over her and guided her the way he wanted to, he is still proud of the things she has managed. Cautious and afraid and hesitant, because he knows this isn't what he had wanted for her, but proud nevertheless.
Naruto watches as the Hokage breathes in slowly through his pipe, and slowly back out. A thin tendril of smoke drifts to the ceiling, diagonally, drawn to the window behind him as if it hopes to find a crack there and escape into blue sky.
She watches it until she is not even sure, anymore, if the smoke is really still there, gathered at the edge of the room, or if she is simply imagining the faint haziness in her expectation of it.
Finally, the Hokage talks, and her eyes fall back to his lined face and the little scars littered across his skin. Trophies of past battles, reminding her that the man in front of her is dangerous, and the man in front of her, no matter how kind he is, is the man that Nonoko warned her about before she… was taken.
"Ten years ago," the Hokage intones, as if he is telling a story, "a destructive and powerful force approached this village. You have no doubt learned in your classes that the Yondaime Hokage defeated the Kyuubi no Yoko. This is not entirely accurate." He waits, as if for a gasp of surprise or some kind of reaction, but Naruto is too busy locking down her fear and anger and sadness to feel anything more.
"The Yondaime sealed the Kyuubi away," Sarutobi continues, "and he sealed it into a baby, because only a baby could bear the seal. You, my dear girl, are the jailer of the Kyuubi. It lives in a seal inside you, and every day you save us all from destruction by holding it back."
Naruto's mind whirls. It's not what she expected, but it makes sense all the same. The matron that whispered demon and the sadness and misery and shame on their faces as they considered her, as they hated her, as they feared her like a mice fears a sleeping cat. And the concern of the Hokage makes sense as well.
She wonders if she is meant to be forged into a weapon – if the seal can harness the might that nearly destroyed Konoha. She wonders if they fear that the Kyuubi will escape, that the seal will malfunction, that they will die from the thing that is within her.
But all she feels is a strange sense of calmness, an almost-peace, a swelling of love for Nonoko and Mae and Saeki, who dared to love her and trust her when the Hokage himself watches her with something akin to fear.
"I want you to know that I have always done my utmost to protect you," he murmurs at last. "And it wasn't my intention for you to end up by yourself all those years ago. It was only ever for your protection."
She doesn't tell him that she doesn't want this harsh protection, or this heavy burden, or any of it - she doesn't tell him that all she wants is Nonoko back and Mae and Saeki and she doesn't tell him that she doesn't want his words and she doesn't want to understand because then she'll be left with a heart full of anger and nowhere to turn it.
What she does say is, "Thank you, Hokage-sama." She cannot look him in the eyes. "You are too kind to me."
They sit in silence - she can't bring herself to speak more or to glance at his face or to even think so she focuses on the threads of the carpet and the grain of the red wood desk.
Finally he sighs. "Do you like your Academy class, Naruto?"
Naruto glances up out of reflex and almost flinches at the kind, grandfatherly look directed at her. Schooling her expression, she manages to say, "We were friends." She knows he catches the implication of that past-tense friendship. She knows because he frowns a little, and she adds vindictively, "Everybody liked Shindou."
Because she can still remember whispers and glares and the way nobody wanted anything to do with Uzumaki Naruto. It was only when she was Rutoshi in the Velvet house, only when she was Shindou that people would smile and call to her and ask How was your day?
"Do you know that your father named you?" The Hokage asks suddenly. A smile pulls at his wrinkled cheeks. "You have your mother's last name and your father named you after his favorite book character."
She stares at the floor. A familiar burn tickles her nose and she squeezes her eyes shut and lashes out, "Everybody talks about my father. Don't think that just because you bring him up I'll like you more, not when you won't even tell me who he is."
The Hokage pauses again. "No, of course," he soothes eventually, hesitantly. "Of course not. Still, it is one thing that you have remaining from your parents. And I don't want you to feel like you have to hide who you are in Konoha. You are safe here."
Naruto smiles bitterly at the floor. "If I believed I was safe," she says, "I would never have wanted to become a kunoichi. If I believed we were safe, there would be no need to protect them, after all."
After about an hour of fidgeting (but subtly, too subtly for even the receptionist's trained eyes to catch) in the reception area, Inoichi hears the sound of a door opening slowly. Naruto walks in from the adjoining hallway, head down, steps steady, fists clenched. He opens his mouth to call out and in the space of that second she looks up.
Her eyes burn brightly.
She stands stiffly next to him and after two days of trying to get her to talk, Inoichi knows that at her most quiet and seemingly fragile moments, she is perhaps the most dangerously enraged and hurtful. "He asked for you," she says, and there is no need to ask who he is or why there is an edge of bitter steel to her too-soft voice. Inoichi considers her; the fingernails digging into the skin of her knees; the eyes unblinking and wide, gazing straight ahead.
And yet the vehemence of her hatred seems to have abated. There is a hesitation there that was not present before.
Finally the silence and her tense indecisiveness become too unbearable and Inoichi stands and heads toward the Hokage's office and the old man who is sitting there, in a chair that in Inoichi's mind still belongs to a much younger shinobi.
But the glint in the Professor's eyes as he walks in reminds him that the man before him, no matter how old and wrinkled with time, no matter how grandfatherly and kind he may seem, is still one of the most dangerous people in the land. Inoichi sits respectfully on the edge of his seat and lowers his eyes.
"The Clan children of this semester's graduating class are loyal," Sarutobi says. It isn't a question. "She will be assigned on a team with Kakashi, who is also unfailingly loyal and one of our best. Until then, indoctrinate her in Konoha ideals thoroughly. She may not have reached foreign hands, but she cannot have any doubts. I want the people she associated with thoroughly investigated and interrogated – use up to Yamanaka techniques, if need be."
Inoichi swallows, hard. Yamanaka techniques – at a certain point, if he has to look too deep with the more intrusive of his repertoire, his clan's famed mind techniques can leave only a vegetable behind.
"If I may, Hokage-sama," Inoichi breaks into the lull cautiously. "It would be a good idea not to reinstate her into the class just yet. Knowing that one of their peers had intentionally lied to them cannot be good for the children's psyche."
He thinks of his Ino, so trusting in love, and knows that the truth is simply too harsh for her. And it will break the children apart to know such truths - not just Ino, but all of them - Naruto as well. Inoichi knows better than anybody that the children are too fragile to be broken now, and they must be allowed to trust their Leaf comrades, lest Konoha lose its next generation.
"Let them associate Shindou Toshiro and Uzumaki Naruto as different people, and later if they find out it will be less of a betrayal and more of the return of an old friend, whom they thought they would never see again. That way, there will not be a rift in the forces."
The Hokage nods thoughtfully.
"Then continue her education in a secure location. I will assign an ANBU to guard and help as necessary. Send me weekly reports. The daughter of Minato and Kushina, and the jinchuuriki of the most powerful tailed beast – the girl is too powerful. She must believe in Konoha. She must be willing to fight, die, and kill for Konoha."
The cold distance in the Hokage's posture sends a chill down Inoichi's spine. I thought you loved her like a granddaughter, he thinks but does not say. I thought that to you, no ninja would be a weapon, that the Will of Fire was for the people, and not the people for the Will of Fire. "Yes, sir," he says instead.
"So be it," the Hokage intones.
"Let your will be done, and let the Will of Fire burn until the last breath of time."
As Inoichi leaves, Sarutobi Hiruzen pulls off his heavy hat and leans back in his chair with a sigh. "Coffee," he says to the room, and feels his ANBU leave.
Only then, only for a moment does he allow himself to lower his head into shaking hands.
Then he turns and looks out at the prospect of Konoha.
It is usually not so difficult to reconcile his heart and his mind - the man and the Hokage. But in front of his men he can be none other than the fearless Hokage, right even when wrong.
And Sarutobi knows he owes it to the girl - he knows with his heart that it is right to be kind, and that in the future such kindness spells only good things, for there is no doubt that Uzumaki Naruto will one day be a great asset for whatever cause she believes in, just as her parents were.
But his mind knows with all its neurons that to be kind is to be foolish, and in his mind all the decisions are stripped down to the cold, hard, sterile effects.
His mind tells him that even though children shouldn't kill, they will. And even though they call them heroes, they're murderers. And even though he loves Naruto, truly, he will condemn her to this life.
For certainly, as that facade - or as any other child, the life she would live would be easier. There would be no parental shadows, no bloody past, no demons lurking in the minds of everybody around her. It would be a lie, but it would be a kind one.
But Uzumaki Naruto will have to prove herself to the world. She will have to become strong, because if she doesn't, she will surely die.
The Hokage cannot help but wonder if, when her hands are permanently stained with crimson (because only children fight battles without bloodshed) - if, at that moment, when she realizes he has set her on a one-way road, the fear in her eyes when she looks at him will turn to rage.
The road was paved with good intentions, but the Hokage cannot help but wonder if, at the end of the path, he will deserve far worse than rage.
A week in to his first official assignment in years and Yamanaka Inoichi cannot help but feel heartache for his charge. Uzumaki Naruto is a lovely, bright girl who seems to have been born with the most guilt-inducing, heart-shaking words in her mouth.
It is one lovely afternoon after Inoichi enters the compound with a nod to the bored ANBU guard, after brushing shoulders with the spectacled brunette that is supposed to be furthering Naruto's education in the female arts of which Inoichi should know nothing of, as he sits down in front of the recalcitrant girl who still won't look him quite in the eyes.
Except this time Naruto looks up at him, and what falls out of her mouth is once again something he does not expect. "You're a good father."
The wistful look in her eye and the twist on her lip and the wrinkle in her eyebrow make something in his throat constrict. "Thank you, dear," he finally replies, his tone congenial. Though he had promised himself not to mention her father again, his voice forms a self-deprecating, "But I am a far lesser man than your father was."
She smiles, though there is still that wistful look in her eye and wrinkle in her eyebrow. "A good ninja doesn't necessarily make a good father," she retorts. Before he can dispute it, the wistful look in her eye is replaced by something else and she spits out, "Yamanaka-san, if you had to choose between Konoha and Ino, which would you pick?"
Konoha and Ino? Inoichi's mind races. He tries to puzzle out the question – some part of him wants to know where this came from. Where could this sudden question spring from? Another part of him repeats you are a good father at far too loud a volume. And the final part of him, weighed down by guilt, considers the question.
Oh, but it's an easy question. He's a ninja, and he's pledged his devotion and he loves and he's too soft it's been too long why hasn't he answered the question already because Konoha is the ultimate ideal, it's what he will die for and it's what he kills for and it's what he lives for – that's Konoha, oh but Konoha is Ino. And Ino is Konoha.
The guilt crashes in, and one look at the girl's carefully blank face tells him that his silence is enough. Inoichi feels too old and too soft for talking to this smiling girl, this girl who is his Ino's sun – but at the same time he can't bear to bring in a harsher man.
Besides, he thinks, Namikaze Minato – and then his brain stops. Konoha or Ino? It asks him. Naruto or Konoha? It asks Minato.
It is almost all Inoichi can do to smile and pleasantry his way out of the room and send in Yuugao. He sits down heavily outside, grateful at least that Naruto and he, by extension, have been moved out of the underground rooms and away from the smells and sounds. But the silence is almost too conducive to thinking.
Namikaze Minato kept his world steady when the rest of the lands shook in the throes of war, but Uzumaki-Namikaze Naruto shakes it, tears it down, and remakes it – for the better or the worse, Inoichi can no longer tell.
About two months into her assignment, Uzuki Yuugao decides she hopes the Hokage captures more little girls with demons inside them because Uzumaki Naruto is the most delightful, cute little thing to happen to her in all the years since she's joined ANBU.
Even if she's a bit exasperating, she concedes as she walks into the white room and finds Naruto on the ceiling. Again.
"What have I told you about sitting on the ceiling?" She asks, exasperated, blowing a strand of purple hair out of her face. "Naruto-chan, seriously."
Naruto cracks open an eye and grins. Yuugao can't help but grin back, a little. Her charge lets her chakra go and flips with preternatural grace off the ceiling, landing softly on the floor. Quietly, Yuugao approves of her student's careful chakra usage to soften the landing. "That if I couldn't do it, I don't deserve to be a kunoichi?"
Yuugao groans. "You're never going to let me live that comment down, are you?"
She receives a cheeky laugh. "Did you ever find your boyfriend a good anniversary present, or are you still looking?" Yuugao looks away. Naruto's penchant for remembering things is both endearing and embarrassing, but more often embarrassing for the ANBU operative. She resolves, for the sixteenth time, not to say anything personal in front of Naruto. "Still looking, I see? You could always get him something lame and professional like new kunai."
Yuugao flushes. "It's not that lame." Naruto laughs and Yuugao resolves to just move on before more embarrassments find her. "How are you doing with your chakra exercises? Show me your wall sliding technique."
Naruto nods, flips halfway up a wall, and starts skating around the room. "I think I'm doing pretty well," she says, "But gravity always pulls me down." After two circles around the room, she's practically laying on the floor. "It was kinda hard to find a good balance between loose enough to slide but sticky enough to keep me up."
"Keep practicing," Yuugao orders. "You might have great reserves but you need consistent practice to make sure that, as you hit puberty and your reserves explode, you keep control over them." She reaches into her kunai pouch and pulls out a little booklet and with the utmost nonchalance declares, "Since you've been doing so well, I was thinking of teaching you a little technique."
The way that Naruto's eyes light up with an almost manic delight fills Yuugao with a foreign, light feeling. She pushes it down sternly but it bubbles up again. With a laugh, she says, "But hold your horses. Math first, then cool techniques – the longer you take to finish these worksheets, the longer it takes to get there."
"But math takes forever!" Naruto groans. "And you're never any help."
"Some things you have to learn by yourself," Yuugao says wisely. Besides, I'm shit at maths.
They say that time heals all wounds, but the wounds are still fresh. If anything, they bleed harder as the Academy comes into view and Naruto slips a smile all too easily onto her face before realizing that she no longer really has a reason to.
Smile, that is.
Time passed quickly and Yamanaka Inoichi was altogether too kind while Yuugao teased and taught with flair but somewhere in the back of her mind Naruto always held the memory of Inoichi's smile when he lied to her. So as he pats her on the back she offers him a smile, too, and either she's gotten much better at lying or he has because for all the world it looks as if he believes that she's happy.
But all Naruto feels is fear and half-forgotten rage and the cold, hard, nothingness that shelters whatever part of her still believes.
She hopes to whatever is out there that the nothingness won't disappear, not when she walks through familiar halls, not when she enters a room that calls to her memory - not when she sees the faces of her once-friends.
Because the last time Uzumaki Naruto trusted anybody, she was betrayed.
"Ino, do you recognize that girl? I've never seen her around the village before," Sakura whispers as soon as Ino slides into the seat beside her. They always sit here, behind and to the right of Uchiha Sasuke, so they can watch him and occasionally squeal together – but even though the seat beside him would obviously be the best vantage point, nobody dares to sit there. And nobody has, ever since Shindou Toshiro disappeared.
Until now.
"I don't know her either," Ino says, perplexed. Between the two of them, Sakura and Ino know just about every adolescent girl in either the Academy or the civilian school. "You think she's here for the test?"
Sakura shrugs. "More importantly, why hasn't Sasuke-kun kicked her out of that seat yet?" She wonders a bit too loud. Sasuke's eyes shift over to them and she winces and turns away. The new girl doesn't look up from her book – or at least, her head doesn't move. Sakura can't see her eyes through the curtain of golden hair that hangs between them.
"Well, we can just ask her," Ino laughs. "You're still too shy, Sakura-chan." Sakura scowls back good-naturedly but before Ino can call out Ami's voice interrupts them.
"Don't," she says. "Whoever that girl is, she's important enough that an ANBU sent her here."
Ino pauses and Sakura sees the hesitation in her posture before she straightens and turns to look at Ami. "I'm not scared like you," she sneers. "My dad's working with ANBU. Maybe her dad's an ANBU or something. It's not that special. What I'm worried about is why Sasuke-kun is letting her sit in Shiro-kun's seat!"
Sakura watches, fascinated, as Sasuke's back stiffens and his shoulders tense.
Sakura watches, fascinated, as the girl beside him startles at the name. She watches as the golden head moves. She watches as a small, thin face glances back. Sakura stares, for the first time in six months, into beautiful blue eyes and in her mind she can just see a smile forming on that face and her name on the tongue.
The moment passes and Sakura is left hating the pale girl with her pretty face and hair like gold for making her hope.
Naruto sits in her seat, heart still doing palpitations. She wants to call out to the people she has known, has learned with, but every time a word forms on her lips she finds it stolen away by the truth that, to them, she is a stranger. And it's better to be a stranger than a liar.
She can't bear for them to find out, not like this.
And she can't bear to be hurt, not again.
Without thinking her feet lead her to her old seat beside Sasuke. She sits, and he seems so shocked when she does that she almost laughs and asks him, "Teme, don't you recognize me?" But then she remembers that she doesn't want him to recognize her and she doesn't say a word. He glares daggers at her and she doesn't say a word. But he doesn't say anything, either. Eventually he looks away and ignores her, and that hurts more than anything because it took weeks but Sasuke had finally talked with Toshiro, and once he started he didn't stop – but now.
Naruto sits in Shindou Toshiro's seat and realizes that this time, she is the one breaking trust.
Naruto sits in Shindou Toshiro's seat and tells herself that this is what she wants.
Naruto sits in Shindou Toshiro's seat and tastes the bitter flavor of lies.
Author's Notes:
For shewhoflies. Without her, my dears, you would have no chapter, because I'm shit at reworking things and would have given up on my own long ago.
Next time: team assignments. And the secrets slowly unravel.
Do you know you can make my world shine with just a moment of your time?
Liffae ^-~