Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Beta: Duesal10
Swinging Pendulum
Chapter One: The Ramen Addict
Jiraiya had always wanted to be a shinobi.
He didn't remember just when he had made his career choice, the same way he didn't remember how he knew his own name. It had always been there, a thrumming in his bones that hummed in excitement every time he glanced out the window to see ninjas darting across the roof tops. Or the flip flop of butterflies that fluttered in his stomach when he peeked into big brother Sakumo's training and drank in the cold metal precision and the magic known as chakra.
Jiraiya had never really like the Hatake family apart from Sakumo. The father was too strict and the mother too ditzy. Between back to back missions and clan duties, neither of them ever paid any attention to their younger son. So Jiraiya had long since stopped calling himself a Hatake. He was Jiraiya, plain and simple.
But Jiraiya wanted to be a shinobi, and he wanted to be shinobi right now. The minimal age requirement was age six. He knew this. What Jiraiya also knew were various loopholes to bypass the law after snooping through enough texts to make him see double and offhandedly dropping hints near the local genin. If you had the backing of a clan or the Hokage, you could get in as early as age four. The problem was that Jiraiya had something akin to borderline hate for his family, and cheap pride wouldn't let him ask front out.
Instead, he used manipulation.
The white-haired little boy manipulated his parents the best way a four year old could. He impressed them, showed off his skills and bulldozed his way to their approval... or just plain out annoyed them. Jiraiya was not particularly smart or cunning, but he had a stubborn streak bigger Fire country when it came to getting what he wanted.
The boy crunched down a chunk of pride and asked Sakumo for tips. He holed up in the library when he saw older genin and even chunin mill inside the building for beginner scrolls. He practised in the backyard and tacked a leaf to his forehead every day until he could do it half asleep.
Even then, it was Sakumo that really helped Jiraiya achieve his goals. The older Hatake loved his little brother. So when Jiraiya chortled for a super-duper-awesome-jutsu or at least one that he could make him on the level of those "flying ninja, Sakumo had calmly settled on showing him henge to goad Jiraiya as a reward.
He then redirected the Jiraiya back to the basics in hopes of fine tuning the boy's rather atrocious chakra control. He had also sat the kid down with a stack of paper and writing utensils some time later, because the only thing about Jiraiya that was worse than his three second attention span was his calligraphy.
Sakumo knew that Jiraiya had the talent, the correct motivation and love for his village. What he needed now was a brilliant teacher to unleash his potential.
The boy in question obediently finished his exercises. And by the time Jiraiya's fifth birthday rolled across calendar, the Hatake brothers had managed to convince their father to enroll Jiraiya a year before the requirement.
The reaction was one of those delayed ones. The morning the excellent news had arrived, Jiraiya had stumbled out of bread, finished his morning routine and groggily picked at his bowl of oatmeal. When Sakumo had first relied the information, the boy had nodded a bit in his direction, turned his attention back to breakfast, and made a sort of gurgle akin to "ah huh". Five minutes later, with one foot out the front door and the other touching the wooden frame, Jiraiya had turned, stared at Sakumo with a perpetually blank expression, and proceeded to whoop for joy.
He was in. He was in! HE WAS IN!
Jiraiya would have started cackling madly in the middle of the busy town square. However, that was supposedly unbefitting of a shinobi, so the boy settled for doing a happy little jig instead. A forever amount (it was actually a year) of hard work had finally paid off. Sure, some of the henges and bunshins were kind of cool. But this way, he'd be able to learn actual kick-ass jutsu!
HA! Take that Orochimaru!
Unknown to most (except Sakumo) the white haired boy had a rival in the form of one of the local orphans. Jiraiya had accidentally bumped into the boy when he watched the local princess Tsunade out of boredom. Of course, her grandfather would probably come back from the dead to castrate anyone who dared thought about being with his little girl, even if it was a simple crush. The long haired creep had gotten in his way (and it counted, even if Jiraiya started spacing off after a minute of prosy talking and tea-party games and nearly fell off the tree from falling half-asleep.) Moments after Tsunade-hime was out of ear-shot, he had stormed (fallen) out of his hiding spot to teach Orochimaru a lesson (though really, it was more of a pride thing. How dare that bastard be better than him!)
It was the start of a... beautiful friendship.
Not.
Jiraiya strolled down the marketplace, idly glancing at the little shots sprawled across the streets. Sakumo had given him a little extra change to buy a graduation gift. Jiraiya figured food was as good as anything.
He scoured the surroundings, eyes sharp. Stray cat, street vendors, damned people... no Jiraiya. Food. Now where are they hiding the chicken. Eh, farmers, kids, blond haired blue eyed kid around my age...
Jiraiya halted in mid-step. Blond hair and blue eyes were an incredibly difficult combination to find in Konoha. And the kid with his worn, dirtied, orange, clothing and expression that was stuck in between awe and shock stood out like a beacon in the middle of the night.
Even apart from Oroichimaru, Jiraiya had a soft spot for orphans. He considered himself one of them, as his parents were no better than caretakers, and even then, it was Sakumo that was doing most of the caring and taking care of part. So, seeing this boy that couldn't be possibly be any older than him look utterly... lost, it was in his best intentions to help. Food always tasted better with two people anyway.
The blond orphan seemed to have caught sight of Jiraiya. As his features twisted through stages of shock, denial, sorrow, gratitude and halted to a stop somewhere near I'm-gonna-have-a-heart attack and recognition.
Now that was just weird...
Nonetheless, Jiraiya firmed up his courage and cupped his hands around his mouth for the additional volume. "OI YOU!"
The blond peeked over his own shoulder, apparently looking for whoever Jiraiya was talking to. He groaned. "No no no. You in the orange. Blond haired, blue eyed.-" A point. "-yes you."
Jiraiya walked over to the blond haired child, who was staring at him almost unnervingly. "Hey, you wanna go out with me for lunch? I'll pay," he said, trying very hard to to flinch under the stare.
The blond shuffled awkwardly, before looking him up and down and settled on a perfectly unimpressed expression. "... Eh... I'm straight you know. Straight as a board, dattebayo."
Jiraiya twitched. What...?
Oh.
OH.
He did not just say that. "I LIKE GIRLS!" he squawked indignant. "And stuff... and girls..? I think?," he floundered. Jiraiya at age five was not very clear about the intricacies of relationships. He cleared his throat awkwardly, deciding to push the conversation back to safer territories. "I'm Jiraiya," he introduced, holding out a hand.
The blond stared at it owlishly., mouth curled in some odd, distant expression reminiscent of a half frown. Jiraiya wondered if the boy knew whether or not staring was a very polite thing to do, before deciding that no, he probably didn't. Still, he could at least try to not look at his fingers as if they were made of some terrible abomination.
"Aren't you gonna take it?" he said, gruffly.
"What about other things?" the blond orphan said. Now that he was so close, Jiraiya could see the whisker marks half hidden underneath the layer of grime. "Like... hobbies, and dreams and goals."
"... I'm not spelling out my life's story to a total stranger," Jiraiya replied.
"You offered to treat me to lunch," Blondie pointed out.
Why was he doing this again? The blond clearly didn't appreciate his efforts.
"Look. Just take it or leave it," Jiraiya suggested impatiently.
His hand was quickly grasped by a smaller, dirt-streaked one.
"The name's Uzumaki Naruto," Blondie said cheerfully. "I like ramen, my friends and people who treat me to ramen. I dislike people who try to take over the world for stupid reasons. My dream is to protect my precious people." The blonde-Naruto's hand tightened drastically as he stole a glance at the Hokage monument. "And... and I'm going to be Hokage," he ended, voice firm and a little sombre.
"... Naruto? Your parent must've really hated you."
"I never knew my parents," he said quietly.
"... It's a great name?" Jiraiya tried to reiterate. He didn't know how to deal with orphans other than Orochimaru. The prick was a special case.
"It's maelstorm! A Hokage needs to have a cool name!" Naruto insisted.
"Whatever you say." Jiraiya shook his head, happy that the tension had dissipated. "Still, Hokage huh? Well I'm gonna be the strongest ninja in history," Jiraiya decreed. They shook hands once, twice three times, and the deal was sealed.
"Now, what do you want to eat?"
The response was immediate. "RAMEM!" Naruto cheered.
"... I don't think there are any ramen vendors around."
"Blasphemy!" Naruto screeched, aghast. "How 'bout Ichiraku's?"
"... What's that?" Jiraiya wondered. By now the blond had turned even paler than he had than when first noticed Jiraiya.
Naruto practically wilted in front of his eyes. "But that's-that's it's...MY RAMEN!" he wailed pathetically, slumping down to his knees. Was he some kind of ramen addict? Jiraiya didn't think such a thing was possible.
Jiraiya panicked. "How about barbecue? I'll by you some instant ramen later if you want. They're really cheap."
The mere mention of ramen had Naruto bouncing back up again. Jiraiya marvelled at the sudden shift in mood. "Than what are we waiting for? Let's go!" he grabbed Jiraiya's arm with a surprisingly strong grip, streaking through the mass of people. "RAMEN HERE I COME!"
It figured all he could think about was the noodles...
Nevertheless, for Jiraiya, who half-trailed half-limped behind his newfound friend, dumfounded. It felt as if he had sign his fate to the devil for the better or the worst.
"Another set of dango please!" Naruto said exuberantly, swiping his sleeve across his mouth before meticulously placing the newly empty plate onto a stack of similarly clean ones.
The former jinchuuriki turned to look at his former mentor... or was it future mentor? Blah. The complications of time travel. More importantly, Ero-sennin was alive. He was a midget, with none of the experience of memories of his Ero-sennin, but he was alive and well. And if Naruto had anything to say about it, this Ero-sennin wasn't going to die of anything but old age.
Jiraiya slowly counted the amount of coins in his hand. A stick of dango dangled from his lips, and a trail of sticky sauce dribbled down his chin. "Just one more," he said grudgingly.
"Oi Jiraiya, why do you want to be a ninja?" Naruto inquired as another plate of dango was set in front of the two children. He snatched one for himself and bit off the one at the top of the skewer.
Jiraiya glanced down at his dango. This was a clearly important question. Not one he'd ever really thought about over the years. It was usually all I'm going to do this and that's that and no why do I want to be a ninja? It was also a little unnerving to receive such a question thought out question from someone with such a ramen-centered mind.
There was a pregnant pause as Jiraiya noticed he was talking out loud.
"I can hear you, you know," Naruto groaned. He wasn't that bad was he? Why did he keep on giving the image of an idiot to even the people he'd known for only a little while? And wasn't Jiraiya supposed to have been the loudmouth of this generation's team seven?
Jiraiya coloured faintly.
"I want to be strong." Jiraiya picked at his dango. "I want to be recognized. Be respected by the adults and stuff. I'm gonna be a shinobi so that they won't be able to look down on me anymore."
Really, the parallels between Naruto's situation and Jiraiya's were stupidly familiar. The blond chewed his own food until it became obvious Jiraiya wasn't going to say anything else. "When I'm Hokage. I'm gonna protect the villagers, and my precious people. And anyone else that needs help. And ramen, I'm going to build dozens of ramen stands across the village. You had better back me up, Raiya," he said.
Jiraiya threw up his hands in exasperation."... What is it with you and ramen?" he groaned.
A beat, then...
"Jiraiya. Not Raiya, you fishcake!" he yelped.
Naruto snickered.
Jiraiya twitched. "Why you little-"
The younger of the two made a wild lunge for the older one. Naruto leaned to the side, hopping out of his stool. Jiraiya twisted in the air, one hand one resting on said stool and flipped over the blonde, demonstrating a swift kick to Naruto's temple. Naruto ducked to dodge.
The blonde grinned foxily.
Oh, it was on.
Naruto swiftly slid under Jiraiya's guard after a missed jab to the stomach. A sweeping kick and punch combination was countered and sidestepped. Two jabs and a kick later, the spar became an all-out brawl of fists, much to the amusement of nearby ninja.
Ero-chibi was good. Prodigiously good even, for a five-year-old. And there were traces of expert training in his (currently standard-based) fighting style.
But if sixteen-turned-six Naruto couldn't defeat Jiraiya at age five, even with all of his stamina and future knowledge, it was time to swear of ramen for a month and focus on his training.
And to Naruto, that was as good a motivation as anything.
"Huzzah! I told you I would win," Naruto crowed from his perch on Jiraiya's back.
"That was only luck," Jiraiya muttered.
"I'm better."
"No you're not."
"Yes I am."
"No."
"Yes!"
"No."
Yes!"
"No."
"No."
"Yes-wait NO!"
"You fell for it-ttebayo!" Naruto crowed.
"...Damn you," Jiraiya groaned.
"I bet the academy doesn't teach you things as cool as mine," he gloated.
"… Academy?" Jiraiya mumbled. "… Oh Kami, I knew there was something I was forgetting!" he cursed.
Naruto blinked.
"What?"
"The academy! I need to sign up for the academy today!" Jiraiya shoved Naruto aside, rising from the ground in a fit before dusting off his clothes.
"... You mean you're not a registered student yet?"
"I'm five!" he snapped. "The usual age requirement is six. I asked pa to pull some strings and get me in early. I still need to sign up myself at the gates though." He slipped a hand into his yukata and pulled out a slip of paper. "See?"
Naruto squinted at the words. "Er... I recommend my son Jiraiya... wait a minute… you can do that?" he asked, incredulous. Then again, didn't Kakashi-sensei graduate at like... five? Huh, he had always figured that was because of the war.
"Of course. You just need the proper backing and stuff," Jiraiya rolled his eyes.
"...I should probably join too," Naruto muttered.
"You mean you're not a registered student yet?"
"I'm six!" he argued.
"The age requirement is six." Jiraiya pointed out dryly.
"Well... I don't know where to sign up." Naruto defended. Hokage-jiji had taken care of all precautions the first time around.
Jiraiya sighed. "You want to become a ninja right?" Naruto nodded. Technically, he already was a ninja, but here, he didn't have his headband. Kakashi-sensei graduated in a year, and come to think of it: didn't Jiraiya, Tsunade and Orochimaru all do the same thing? He already knew the material. He'll be damned if he didn't graduate in the same time slot.
"Follow me." It was Jiraiya that grabbed Naruto this time around. And they started towards the academy.
"I'm Uzumaki Naruto, I like ramen, especially miso ramen but pork ramen is also good. Home cooked ramen is the best, and then instant ramen even though it takes three minutes to cook and isn't really instant. I dislike people who delays my ramen orders and—"
"Kid," the chunin at the academy gates interrupted. His hand clenched tightly around his clipboard. "Name, age, medical information. No ramen."
"Ramen is the food of the gods!" the sixteen-turned six year old declared.
"No. Ramen."
Naruto deflated.
Jiraiya, who was already registered, sniggered.
"The first semester starts in a week," the chunin grunted. "Be on time."
"I need a place to crash, some food, paper, ink, paint... maybe some glitter," Naruto ticked off his fingers. He already knew of an abandoned apartment with adequate lighting and plumbing. The dust and grime was nothing an army of kage-bunshin couldn't fix, but Naruto needed some supplies and Naruto's wasn't a thief.
"I already said I'll buy you instant ramen. Paper and ink is fine, but paint...? You're on your own for the rest," Jiraiya said.
Naruto locked his hands behind his head. "Don't worry about it, dattebayo. I already know where I'm staying; it's right inside the red-light district. I'll show it to you later. Can you get me the paper and brushes though?"
"Redlight district?"
"Hmm… yeah. Papers Jiraiya," he reminded, checking his dirtied nails.
"Why do you need it?" Jiraiya demanded, curious.
"Need to practice my calligraphy." Well... there was more to it, but the excuse was decent.
"Alright, my house is this way," Jiraiya flicked a finger to his left. "Just wait a minute."
"You know, you're really nice for someone I've just met," Naruto yawned languidly.
"And you're an orphan."
Naruto wrinkled his nose. "I don't need charity."
Jiraiya rolled his eyes, zipping away quickly. He returned barely two minutes afterwards. In his hands was a small bag. Brushes and an ink stone peeked out of the thin plastic. "Here," he offered.
Naruto grinned, rummaging through the packet. "Thanks Raiya," he said absently. The blonde turned back to his friend, except Jiraiya was no longer to his right. In fact, Jiraiya was nowhere to be seen. Naruto grimaced, wildly poking around to find Jiraiya's chakra signature. Sensing had never been his strong point. "... and uh… what are you doing?"
Jiraiya, crouched behind a bush waved a hand at him in dismissal.
"Are you stalking someone?" Naruto wondered aloud. Given both of his future occupations, the idea wasn't too farfetched.
"Shhhh," the white-haired academy student hissed back, intently focused on whatever he was doing. Naruto inched closer to the bushes, decidedly unimpressed. It seemed that ero-chibi really wasn't as mature as he thought... but still, statistics showed that the more perverted you were, the more powerful as a shinobi you were likely to get.
Naruto looked past Jiraiya's shoulder and saw yellow. He looked farther and saw green. The picture of innocence and current target of Jiraiya's attention, five year old Tsunade-obaa-chan, who wasn't really an obaa-chan at this point in time, sat in the middle of a semi-circle. She was ringed by a mass of loyal followers-mainly female ones.
Naruto blinked. Whoa. I didn't think Ero-sennin's crush went this far back…but it explains a lot of stuff.
To be fair, Jiraiya looked less of a crush-smitten boy and a little more of a lonely mongrel. A look Naruto identified at first glance. He had seen it reflecting back at himself through the mirror one too many times to forget (But not often, only when the masked slipped and cracked and cratered, when his smile broke and blue eyes dulled. It didn't happen often, because Naruto was good at slapping on smiles that stretched from ear to ear even when he didn't mean it and ignoring hateful whispers.) It was a look of tentative longing. When people had said that Team Kakashi resembled the senin, he had automatically thought of strengths, not of childhoods. Naruto frowned. Was Ero-sennin lonely?
Naruto's philosophy was that if you had to do something, you did if head on with all the motivation and love you could put into it. Oh, and you should never gave up on your loved ones. Strangely enough, this was also the philosophy of the entirety of the Uzumaki clan, who were known for their hair-trigger tempers and slightly… unhinged ways. Even stranger, fangirls utilised this as their general way of living, and Naruto had been fangir-uh… boying over Sakura for a decent chunk of his childhood.
But that was a story for another time.
In a swift movement, Naruto pushed his friend into the open. Jiraiya stumbled, cursing, and Naruto followed him straight into Tsunade's line of vision. "I'm Uzumaki Naruto!" he introduced for the third time that day. "And this is my friend Jiraiya. Can we play with you?"
Tsunade flashed a shy smile. "I'm Senju Tsunade. Um... I have a grandmother that's an Uzumaki," she said innocently. "Are you related to her?"
Naruto froze. Uzumaki, Uzumaki. That's right, oba-not obaa-chan's grandfather was Hashirama…who married a Uzumaki. Wait does that mean I'm related to Chibi-baa-chan? And what's her name again…?
"Who is she?" he asked.
Tsunade blinked uncertainly. "Who's who?"
"Your grandmother."
"Oh!" Tsunade scrunched up her nose. "I think it was… Mito! Grandma Mito. But I call her granny."
Mito, Mito. Uzumaki Mito. Hashirama's wife. I think mom knew her… why was that? Uh… um… Oh. That's right. Kurama. She was Kurama's first Jinchuuriki. So Kurama's probably in her… if he got sent back too. But did Kurama get sent back…? Technically, he was inside of me… Gah. Too much thinking.
"Um-uh…what are we doing?" Jiraiya spoke up.
Tsunade grinned slyly. And Naruto caught sight of the tea set and fresh muffins on the dainty table set in front of her. "Tea party of course!" she chortled. Five-year-old Tsunade had yet to grow out of delicate, girly games. At least it was better than gambling and drinking.
Naruto plopped Jiraiya into an empty seat. He snitched a muffin for himself, and bolted, ignoring Jiraiya's cry of betrayal.
Thirty seconds later, a kage-bunshin eased into Naruto's spot at the tea party. The real Naruto happily munched on his muffin, supplies in hand, climbed the stairs to his new apartment.
"Sweeper Uzumaki, go clean the bathrooms on the second floor. Duster Uzumaki, the ceiling's still dirty. And you! Yes you. Go see if you can get some paint. Orange, of course." Naruto watched his horde of kage-bunshin carefully worked their way through the sea of dust and grime. He might've been six, but his chakra reserves were far from dwindling. Kage-bunshin didn't even need that much chakra control. You just shoved as much as you into a clone, and poof. An army appears.
The apartment was in worse condition than he had feared. Alternatively, it wasn't too bad. Those D ranks with all their plumbing and fixing roofs had to be good for something.
Naruto glanced down at the sheaf of empty papers on his desk, nibbling on the tip of his brush. He was a doer not a thinker, but two years under spymaster Jiraiya had knocked that the fact information was worth its weight in gold into his skull. Naruto didn't have picture-perfect memory like Sasuke with his sharigan, or Sakura-chan's ability to memorise everything she read. So writing down future events was important. The standard timeline would do. Except that the majority of happenings didn't have a specific date. Or maybe that was because Naruto had never taken the time to memorise the dates of anything apart from the Kyuubi attack. It would be stupid not to remember that certain incident.
He settled for writing down profiles for future enemies and powerful shinobi instead.
Speaking of which… he didn't really know about the circumstances surrounding this Konoha. Naruto tilted his head thoughtfully (a rare feat) and flashed through some handseals.
Kotonaru no jutsu was a modified version of harem no jutsu. It was made for the sole sake of spying. It was also used to get away from Ero-sennin when he decided to commence his "research." The jutsu had a Kage-bunshin base, the henge for sexy no jutsu layered on top, heck loads of chakra, and minor modifications so that the clone could be jostled and punched around a bit without dissolving. It was a beautiful masterpiece Naruto was as proud of as his rasenshuriken. The catch was that rarely did people ever see him using it.
Ero-sennin was the one who suggested it when he saw Naruto's talent for being.
Naruto did not act. Naruto was. He was the orange loving-loudmouth with a deathly devotion towards his friends. He was the shy little girl who bought food from the street vendors when they refused to sell their ware to the Kyuubi jinchuuriki. He was the artistic young man with moralistic ideals and a silver tongue. People told their actors to never lose sight of themselves. to not become the role they play. Naruto did the exact opposite. It was because of this, the way he infused parts of his personality into whoever he was until the line was blurred. Because Naruto was the little girl and Naruto was that young man and they were both Uzumaki Naruto, that he could play his role so convincingly. And it was because the girl loved Konoha and its kind people. The man enjoyed arguing with the wicked and stoned, trying to bring them back into the light, that Naruto did too.
Had Naruto not been the Kyuubi jinchuuriki, and thus better suited for the front lines, he would have made a fantastic infiltration expert and spymaster.
As of now, the boy scrutinized his creations. There was a red-haired girl in a sundress, grinning brilliantly, a wizened old man with a limp in one leg and a cane of cherry wood in his hand hunched behind her. A lanky genin looked at Naruto with blatant disinterest, ninja wiring in his fingers. There was a hardworking, tanned civilan farmer with callouses on his hands and cheap clothing to the genin's left, and a ditzy looking woman cooed and admired the little girl's hair.
Naruto snapped his fingers. "Attention men and women. We are in uncharted territories, dangerous lands, familiar perimeters we have to conquer anew. You know the drill. Go to places that suit your nature and hunt for information."
Naruto stared at his clones expectantly.
The little girl giggled. The woman cocked her head in confusion. The farmer and old man sighed, while the genin rolled his eyes. A chorus of "yes boss" in tones vacillating from jolly to boredom rang through the air.
Naruto waved his hand in dismissal. A swoosh of displaced air, and the five figures disappeared out the window.
Naruto sat down on his chair. The former jinchuuriki didn't particularly enjoy the situation he was in. Kakashi-sensei wasn't even born yet, not to mention the Konoha twelve or sand siblings. Hokage-jiji, who wasn't Hokage yet judging by the lack of head on the momentum was young. Sarubtori Hiruzen, the oldest person Naruto had ever met in his life (reincarnated shinobi didn't count) was barely into his twenties. It was wrong. It was stupidly backwards.
Naruto didn't like it.
Fortunately, he had never been one to dwell on the specifics. He had crawled his own way up from scorn and predijuice that had stuck to him like unwanted bubblegum, striving against the morals and realities that made up the ninja world. He would do it again. Here. His methods might not have been conventional in any sense, but work they did, out of sheer stubbornness and compassion of heart. The heroes of his generation were nothing more than children right now, malleable children. Enemies and conflicts could be avoided. Orochimaru's ideals for immortality would be knocked and kicked and shoved out of his head and down a cliff before they ever came to him. Hopefully the fourth shinobi war could be ended before it began. The string of coincidences that led to it was so over the top all Naruto had to do was push one button to stop it.
Hopefully.
Currently, he needed to book an appointment with Uzumaki Mito, and make it out of the next few shinobi wars alive. The rest could wait.
…Or he could just wing it. His luck usually gave him what he needed anyways. Someone needed to pair off Ero-chibi and chibi-Tsunade.
Besides, Konoha was in sore need of a decent ramen stand…
The blond considered this for a moment.
Meh, why not?
Meanwhile, with the Kotonaru no bunshin-little girl version:
The orphanage caretaker quirked a smile as the scene unfolded in front of her eyes.
Their resident genius, Orochimaru steadily flipped through a hearty tomb as he tried to ignore the red-haired little girl chattering a mile a minute into his ear. Orochimaru was a beloved child, but the poor kid needed to get out more and enjoy the fresh air on a semi-regular basis. The only one who seemed to be able to manage this was that Jiraiya boy who occasionally dropped by and stirred the competitive side of Orochimaru-chan just by being alive. Any other time, one could find Orochimaru in a nook of the library; books from all sorts of diverse topics teetering around him in a well organized little nest. The sharp-faced librarian would keep usually keep an eye on him, just in case one of his precious scrolls decided that enough was enough and proceeded to bonk the boy on the head with the hidden ferocity of a wooden object.
The little girl, seemingly at the end of her patience, snaked out an arm, practically ripping the book from Orochimaru-chan in a burst of hidden strength. She whacked the startled boy on the head, before settling the thick paperback onto the carpet and forcefully dragging him out into the streets.
Outside, the other children gave a cheer for their new playmate.
At the Tea Party:
Tsunade didn't know what to think about the blond boy claiming to be an Uzumaki. He was certainly loud enough, and he had the same flair for dramatics and preference for bright colours (if the orange was anything to go by) like grandma Mito and the people in her stories. However, the boy was blond. And everyone knew Uzumakis had red hair. Tsunade herself had marvelled at her grandmother's gorgeous crimson locks.
Still, if she went by that logic, then wasn't she supposed to be a red-head too? Because grandma was an Uzumaki and that made her Senju-Uzumaki Tsunade. Maybe some Uzumakis were blond instead.
Pleased with her own reasoning, Tsunade elegantly bit into her chocolate chip cookie as the Naruto-boy jabbered on about pranks.
Likewise, he had brought her new entertainment. The boys here were so plain and boring. Jiraiya was a lot more interesting to play tea-party with. When Naruto paused to take a breath, Tsunade launched into her own story about this one time when Mito-obaa-san beat up grandpa 'Rama when he tried to show her how to gamble.
Kotonaru no bunshin: genin version
He was pretending to finish up his last mission report in a local bar designed for shinobi when an oddly familiar chakra signature drifted into range. It was soon followed by a ring of the bell, and a crown of silvery hair bobbing across the sea of dark-haired shinobi. There was the slight jutting of a child's features, and a desolate harshness in his grey eyes. Hatake Sakumo looked eerily like Kakashi with his hair untamed and face schooled into an expression of boredom.
The Naruto clone narrowed his eyes.
If anyone asked, he was Robaru Kaito, age twelve, genin. Kaito graduated a year earlier than most. He was an analytical, clever student known for his book smarts and efficiency at making do with limited materials and his ninja wire. Kaito did not know anything about Hatake Sakumo.
But Naruto did. Naruto would have gone up and introduced himself. Right now, he wasn't Naruto, he was Kaito, and he was on a hunt for information. The clone stole a quick glance at the Kakashi look alike, and returned to doodling on his fake mission report. A burst of chakra in his ears picked up the remnants of sensitive conversations and drunken slurs. Outside, a ripe moon dangled amidst a sea of stars.
The Naruto-clone shuffled his papers into a neat pile, and jammed them under his arm.
He brushed by Sakumo on his way out.
.
Here, in this desolate island of chance and possibilities, Fate sits on her thrown. Tall and proud, she watches down upon broken fragments, as her chosen one acts.
Beside her, an hourglass spins on its top, reversed as sand begins falling anew.
The pendulum swings, slowly steadily.
Fate smiles.
.
A/N: If anyone questions about Jiraiya's study habits and ingeniousness. Let me tell you, he might have been dead last. But he graduated at age six. SIX! And that's not even in a time of war. There had to be some logic behind it.
As for Naruto? Well he's sixteen; he just got out of a war, saw friends die. Now he's stuck in a time and place where the majority of the people he knew haven't even been born, and in the body of a six year old. Oh, and half of his brain still thinks it's a genjutsu or something like that. It's barely been a few days since he first arrived (AKA woke up in a ditch), the shock, numbness and reality of the situation is still sinking in.
On the other hand, I'll probably be updating once every two weeks. Maybe more
Thank you very much to: dayfox96, SHONENJUMPGUY, SanzOgirl, Midnighter67, Steph52499 for reviewing.
Don't be scared, Review!