INTERLUDE

SIX TALES

This is the story of Kurunari the orphan.

He was an unwanted child, to begin with. Left in the care of the most capable hands of the staff of Federal Orphanage no. 90. He was three months old, at the time.

If he had been a newborn then, perhaps, the circumstances might have been a bit more understandable. But he was already sleeping through the night, and he slept soundly, too. But he was an ugly baby, with white hair like an old man.

To abandon a child so late, surely something must have happened. But the question was never answered.

Like all baby orphans, he was raised in a cradle made of painted wire and a cheap mattress, and fed rationed formula. And he had a healthy appetite, which was bad news for the orphanage. Healthy appetites meant hungry babies later in the evening, which was only a nuisance for the other children trying to sleep.

Kurunari's looks did not help him much, nor his hefty size. He was fine baby and a plump toddler and a fat, ugly child, with peach-colored skin and paper-cut eyes that looked like they'd been gouged into his face with a pair of scissors.

Maybe that was why they chose him. Because it was clear from the start that he stood very little chance at adoption, and was hardy besides.

Hardiness was key.

He did not remember when it was, exactly, that the Mizukage's personal secretary, Mizuno, arrived at the orphanage. What he did remember was the whistle of the hall matron and her barking voice ordering them to line up at the feet of their beds. Boys (and, probably, girls - they slept in separate halls) were then picked and somewhat shoved out of the room. Kurunari recognized which ones were being chosen: the kids with the special blood. This sort of thing happened a lot, where the special kids would get singled out for things without explanation, and then very suddenly returned.

For a while, it was very quiet. There were whispers. Was this an inspection? Those happened on occasion, but they were almost always precluded by intense scrubbing of faces and adjustment of clothing.

And then Mizuno entered.

Kurunari's first impressions of her was that it almost looked like she was made of glass, but not in the way that glass is delicate, but in the way that it can cut very painfully and very deeply when broken, and has a tendency of getting into wounds. She had very closely-cut black hair and she wore frame-less spectacles, behind which her very, very black eyes slid here and there.

Every now and then she would reach out and take a boy by the chin and turn his face this way and that, pressing hard into his cheeks with her fingers. Sometimes she would ask questions, about age, about health, which the matron would answer.

Kurunari made her pause. And she kept returning to him, after appraising other boys down the line, like he was something she was considering purchasing, but was still having thoughts about.

She chose him, eventually, with a point of a finger and a decisive, "This one."

"Kurunari-kun, ma'am?" the accompanying matron said.

"Yes, he will do. Does he have many belongings?"

"Just his uniform, ma'am."

Kurunari was four-almost-five years old, still too young to have the under-bed-under-floor hordes that older boys had.

"Then I'll take him as he is."

And Mizuno held out her hand. Her nails were very well-kept.

"Come with me, boy. We're going to the capital. You're going to meet the Mizukage."

Kurunari was too excited and frightened to even speak. But then again, he did not speak often.

He belonged to the government from that day forward.

This is the story of Kurunari the vessel.

He hadn't really been told in advance what they would be doing to him, nor why they were doing this to him in the first place.

He, of course, found all of this out later.

The previous vessel for the six-tailed slug was fading fast. But he had been a moody, reluctant boy to begin with; a youth named Hideaki, with hair more like moss than anything human.

The problem with him, mainly, was his attitude. Or his age. Or the amount that they'd told him in advance about the sealing. Any of those could have been a factor in his body's rejection of the slug.

Either way, he was useless now, and they needed another.

That was Kurunari.

He was not told much. He was just given a meeting with the Mizukage - and he remembered her in those days as a smiling woman with red-brilliant hair, who patted his head and told him how very adorable he was - and new clothes and a nice room in the capital city of Kirigakure, and a whole host of strange people that were always poking in and out of his room, that tucked him in at night, like the matrons had done.

Truthfully, he did not remember much of the sealing. They had him sedated for it, and he woke up in a hospital afterward.

Every sealing method came with its own set of side-effects. Many of them dependent on the nature of the beast being sealed, but also with how the beast was being sealed in the first place.

The vessels of the five-tailed dolphin horse, for example, always, always fell victim to horrible burns and blisters on account of the creature's habitation. They were painful and they were disgusting to look at, and so very, very unfortunate. The one-tailed shukaku's vessels always suffered from cruel insomnia; et cetera, et cetera.

Kurunari, for several weeks after the sealing, was prone to bouts of nausea that ended with him expelling great amounts of translucent green-blue slime from his mouth, tasteless stuff, but with an awful odor that attracted scolding, especially from Mizuno.

She was what they later called his handler, and the source of most of this harshness.

There were also times when Kurunari's body would grow very cold, and his skin would get sticky and ruin his clothes, mostly pajamas. More scolding for that, too.

And then there were also the times where he was so weak he felt like his legs had turned into cooked noodles, which, wonderfully, did not cause him to be scolded that badly. And all the hours of ceaseless, belch-chattering from the six-tails itself, once it came out of the daze that accompanied the transfer into a new vessel. It was a rude creature, and its words made Kurunari feel uncomfortable.

Though they later became something of a comfort, a defense against the world, a coach in the corner.

Well, that voice, and Naruto.

This is the story of Kurunari's friend.

One of the first things that Naruto told Kurunari, after assuring him that everything would be all right, that the pain would end, was that they would be friends.

There was almost a twenty year age difference between them, but the way he said it, with the sunshine in his mouth, it was utterly undeniable. They would be friends. And they were.

Naruto was one of his first visitors in the hospital, after the sealing. Actually, unless his memory was just playing tricks on him, he was the first visitor he had in the hospital. He was there when he woke up after the sealing, in a chair at his bedside.

Later, Kurunari discovered that this was par the course for Naruto. Whenever there was another sealing that needed to be done - and they happened with less and less frequency as the years went on, but they still happened - Naruto was always there.

It was a bit of a sad thought when Kurunari was old enough to make the connection between this ritual and his predecessor. To meet Kurunari, a replacement, so soon after the loss of Hideaki - and surely they must have been friends, too - must have been torture for Naruto's bright heart, but Kurunari's memory of his face betrayed nothing, nor did any twitch of expression that followed Kurunari's questions on the subject.

"It's always sad to lose people you love," Naruto explained, "but I think that it's so wonderful to make new friends, too, y'know? Please don't worry about this, Kurunari-kun, it'll only make you feel sick."

It really was a gift, Kurunari thought, the way that Naruto so confidently said things like that, and how it always soothed his stomach and his worries.

Also a gift was the unconditional support that fell out of his smile and his words, support that infused Kurunari's limbs with an incredible, wonderful lightness, that convinced his inner voice that he really could do anything.

It was Naruto that taught him not to fear the slug in his spine, but to approach it as a roommate, a possible friend, or at least a comrade.

"You're the guy running the show here, y'know?" he said, during one of his visits. It had come in the wake of several excruciatingly embarrassing episodes that left Kurunari slimy and cold and very ashamed, because the slug was scaring him too badly, demanding to be let out, calling him a miserable cuss of a kid, and many other unmentionable things. Mizuno had made an appeal to the Mizukage, and Naruto had come running.

(This was not the first time such an appeal had been made.)

"This is your body, Kurunari-kun. The slug's only there 'cos you're letting it live there. You're in charge. Don't let it boss you around."

Much as these words filled Kurunari with confidence, he still needed help. And Naruto was more than pleased to provide it. They went over exercises for when he felt like he was losing control, mantras and chants for him to use and focus on during the bad times.

"This is my body and I'm not okay with this," was the one that stuck the most, mostly because it was simple and Kurunari could manage to remember it in more flustered states, even though it sounded clumsy to the ear, in his opinion. He'd have preferred something… more sophisticated, more powerful, and he expressed this embarrassment to Naruto on another visit.

And Naruto just laughed. "It's not all about being fancy, y'know!" he said. "What matters is that it works for you, that's what's most important. Okay?"

That helped a great deal.

(It hadn't helped Hideaki, who had given up well in advance, convinced that it was all useless, that maybe the slug was right.)

And when, on those dark nights alone in his chosen, patrolled residence, the slug would go on and on about how it would be better off if he just died and let his burden free, how much easier it would be for the both of them, 'cos golly, kid, it's fucken cramped in here, Kurunari would put his hands on his ears and mumble, "No, this is my body and I'm not okay with this, I'm not okay with this, just leave me alone..."

And maybe it was them merely getting more used to each other, maybe it was the slug gaining some humanity because it had been stuck in Kurunari for far longer than any of its other vessels, maybe because as Kurunari got older he was pressured to learn how to harness the slug's power for his own and his failures in doing so resulted in glass-slicing punishments from Mizuno , maybe a whole bunch of things.

But the slug began to cooperate. Even apologize sometimes on Kurunari's behalf

"Kid, I think you tried hard enough. That was mean, what she said. That's a right bitch of a mom y'got there."

That was the slug's first gift, and all Kurunari could manage through his held-in tears was that she wasn't really his mother.

"Well, just sayin'," the slug replied.

Slowly, yes, they became friends, in a stretched sense of the word. But not allies. Kurunari couldn't fight with it. He was only brave enough to reject its intrusion into his thoughts, but not to dare reach forward and ask to also be paid back in kind for sharing the space.

That was the problem. To Mizuno, and the Mizukage, it was unacceptable, and quite punishable.

Naruto tried to help with this, but some things simply couldn't be worked through, and one of them was Kurunari's cowardice.

He was an anomaly.

But at least he wasn't alone.

This is the story of Kurunari and the jinchuuriki.

There were eight others, besides him. He learned this fact through Naruto, during one of their first meetings. The fact alone that Naruto was like him, that he was grown up and living with a sickening, intruding force inside of him as well was hope to him, that he'd be able to get through this.

Learning that there were more was an even greater comfort. He met them once he was well enough to travel, well enough to go out in public and ensure that he wouldn't be an embarrassment to his country, in Mizuno's own words. It took a few years.

Morizuru was one of the first he met, and one of the first to really last. And though he was rude and crass in a sleepy, almost drunken sort of matter, they sort of grew on each other as time went on.

Morizuru truly fascinated Kurunari, from the very start. His handler, a far kinder-seeming man than Mizuno named Kankuro, explained that he was a living puppet, and that the one-tailed shukaku had been sealed into him, after much trial and error.

What Kurunari discovered later, which only fascinated him more, was that Morizuru's body had been fashioned out of a human corpse, or something similar, and that all other, wooden puppets before him had failed. It made Kurunari wonder what difference the material of the body had made in getting the shukaku to "stick." The remnants of a soul, perhaps? Or some other, bloodier reason?

(Truly, the only reason that Sasori's self-made masterpiece was eventually tried as a vessel, despite Kankuro's fears that the process would destroy the priceless piece like all of the other puppets they had tried, was because Gaara did not. Ever. Want anyone to suffer as he had.)

(And as far as anyone was aware, Morizuru wasn't suffering. His greatest pain was the annoyance he had toward his handlers and the freedom he was not allowed, and the lack of trust directed toward him because of his nature. Though it was all understandable.)

(Though he got better as time went on. Kankuro was a fair, almost parental figure to him.)

Sachiko was another of the early ones, and Kakeru. And Kurunari had felt some sort of solidarity with Kakeru, as neither of them enjoyed the attention that Sachiko gave them.

Kakeru disliked the monkey jokes. He was a stoic boy from the start, and he hated any intimation that he at all resembled his beast, thank you very much. Sachiko still tried them, I what she said were attempts at making Kakeru feel more comfortable with his situation.

"I'm fine enough with my situation, thank you," he would reply, his severe eyebrows lowering.

(This was perhaps one of the reasons why Kakeru had managed to gain control over his tailed beast so quickly and so easily. He was not whatever was inside him, and every action, every thought made this fact very clear. The monkey stood no chance against his psyche. He was a truly rare case.)

Kurunari disliked Sachiko because she was a girl, plain and simple. It hadn't been so bad when he was younger, but time told him that one had to be very careful with women, lest they harm you, and badly. Her kindness, her perkiness, all of it was probably a carefully-produced act that hid a mind full of very sharp teeth.

As they got older and he got to know her better, Kurunari tried to move past this assumption, because Sachiko really did mean well, despite her lack of respect for boundaries. To his shame, however, his fear kept his conversations with her short and full of stammers.

All of the other women in his life were kind enough in public, but vicious behind closed doors. And they had done nothing but punish him and hurt him, and most always rightly so. Who was to say that others wouldn't do the same?

Women commanded extra extra extra care, or Kurunari was just hurting himself further.

(Sachiko, as it happened, had had an extraordinarily smooth transition, partly because the nekomata had been quite well-tamed by its previous vessel, and because Sachiko had confronted it without fear and taken her place with a pink assurance that she wouldn't be the same as Nii, but she would certainly try to live up to her legacy.)

Kemuri joined them late, mostly because all previous vessels of the five-tails had expectedly short lifespans and were usually too ill to travel. And even then, Kemuri's health was always poor, their limbs wrapped in bandages, a full, blank mask over their face, the only thing left uncovered being their black hair, falling to their knees in two, thick braids.

"Only thing left of me that's beautiful," Kemuri would say, with a voice far older than their years, and from the way it was kept and carefully-combed, it was richly apparent how much Kemuri valued this fact.

Kemuri Kurunari didn't have much of an issue with, though their dour attitude was a bit of a barrier in getting to know them. He was still careful around them, even though it wasn't apparent if they were male or female on account of the bandages and mask, and Kemuri had a tendency of sulking away and remaining moody for quite a while if the subject of their gender even came up - and Kakeru and Sachiko made it clear, with varying degrees of kindness, that it wasn't really that important to know, anyways.

Sachiko was their only real friend, despite Kakeru being from the same country as them.

Bee was intimidating, even more-so than Sachiko, which was why Kurunari was even more reluctant to talk around the man than with most women.

Those were the oldest ones. Yuu and Tonbo were new additions.

Kurunari had actually known the previous vessels of those beasts, the three-tails especially. He had known many vessels, not just because of their shared nationalities and ownerships, but because there was such a high rate for rejection.

He had known only one other vessel for the seven-tailed horn-beetle. His name had been Kagero, and he had had dark skin and dark blue hair, and he had been very quiet. He resented his state, privately, and he and Kurunari had shared another sort of kinship.

His government had wanted him to learn how to fight, when he'd much rather stay indoors and read. Kurunari was rather the same, and they shared many quiet hours together over stories and commiseration.

But one year, Kagero didn't turn up at their biannual meeting, and Kurunari got the news that he had passed away not terribly long before.

It hit him strangely, and bluntly. Kurunari was almost grown, at the time, a lad of eighteen. Kagero had been fifteen. There were things that Kurunari understood now that he hadn't when he was younger.

It was an echo of a situation. He found himself thinking of Naruto.

Naruto, who had met and re-met so many vessels in his time. He was one of the oldest.

But Kurunari didn't find himself wanting comfort. Truly, he felt almost happy for Kagero, finally freed of his burden. Almost excited to meet his replacement.

And his replacement was Tonbo. And she was a girl, but she did not scare Kurunari. Well, she had, initially, a kneejerk reaction. But she quickly brought those walls down with a battering ram of shared interests.

All things that crawled and crept and flew fascinated her, slime-producers and silk-makers and thousand-legged all. She'd integrated with her beast in record timing, because, to her, it was the ultimate honor, the ultimate prize.

"I ended up catchin' me the biggest bug of 'em all," she confided to Kurunari, with excitement, during one of their meetings. "I'm the queen."

Her passion for all insects was well-known before the sealing. She was chosen on Naruto's recommendation, on a theory that, maybe, vessels in the future should be willing to take on their burdens and be made fully aware of the trials ahead.

If Tonbo was any indication, this theory had quite a bit of weight. Much like many of Naruto's other theories.

The Mist gave it a try by conditioning their next vessel to look forward to their sealing with a bright mind and honorable words.

That was Yuu. The perfect result of Mist's breeding programs.

But there was still Kurunari, and he had Naruto, still, and Tonbo, and slightly Kakeru, and his slug.

He wasn't alone.

This is the story of Kurunari the useless.

Compared to Yuu, anyways. Yuu was perfect. He was small, but so perfect.

His father, they said, had a gift, that he was able to control the three-tails remotely, with his mind alone. His companion was a woman from whose hands crystals grew.

Very rare gifts. And such gifts were very much appreciated in the Land of Mist. The both of them were tracked down and offered very generous sums of money to assist in a valiant effort of restoring what the previous, monstrous Mizukage had taken away from them.

Neither of them refused, because of the money, because of the mission.

There were many others like them. Kurunari saw them, often, in Mizuno's office, waiting to be seen by the Mizukage.

He also saw them in the hospitals, sometimes. For his monthly checkups.

The crystal woman was in there frequently, over the years, for the removal of children, seeming each time to be thinner and paler, her skin straining to contain the burdens forced upon her. Like so many other women in the city hospital, conscripted into the restoration effort.

He rarely saw the men, with the exception of a very finely-featured individual, with red eyes and hair the color of certain seashells. His health was evidently very delicate.

No, Kurunari rarely saw the men. But he saw what they created.

Yuu was his father's sixth child, and the fourth vessel used overall. The girls were deemed too precious by the Mizukage and raised separately.

The most tragic thing about it all was the fact that they all looked so similar, with their green hair and lavender eyes and barely-staggered ages. It was like they were interchangeable, which was definitely how it felt to Kurunari like they were being treated.

Yuu was the perfect vessel. The success of the group.

Mizuno made no effort at disguising how much more pleased she was by him.

"He's a child and he's so eager to learn how to fight already. You're so much older than him. Why aren't you the same? What if something were to happen to our country, and you were called to its defense? We'd be practically doomed. Useless boy."

"Well, that was harsh and unfair. Did someone stick a hot coal up her ass?" the slug said.

Kurunari quietly asked for it not to say anything more.

He really was pretty useless. Yes, he was a healthy, viable vessel, but he was a coward and, even if he were able to muster the bravery, he was a clumsy, unskilled fighter. He was just dead weight overall. The only reason he was still alive was because it'd be so much trouble finding another vessel and raising it. Mizuno had all but told him this to his face, that his only worth was because he didn't make nearly as much trouble as he had used to.

Though they had other plans in mind. When he turned twenty, they asked for him to consider looking for an heir.

"In case something happened to you, goodness knows what, though," Mizuno explained. "So they can be raised near you to gain familiarity with you and be transitioned easily to receive the six-tails once it's gone from you."

It had been Bee's idea. And he had already chosen an heir, a girl after his own name. She scared Kurunari as much as her father did.

But Naruto hadn't yet chosen an heir, and neither did Kurunari. He told Mizuno to choose anyone she wanted, which was probably what she wanted.

He was an awful role model, anyways. No one to raise a child around.

"I don't think you need to worry 'bout that any time soon, kiddo," the slug told him, in the wake of his decision. "I mean, if you never get into a fight, then that means you'll live longer than they'll expect. That'll be a real stick up their collective butts, I think. Besides, you're prob'ly the best vessel I ever had, so, I kinda want you to stick around. Just sayin'."

The slug was a friend of his, if you stretched the definition enough.

This is the story of Kurunari's family, and the other things he loved.

It became apparent to Kurunari that Naruto's bond with him was a fair bit stronger than his bond with any of the other jinchuuriki. Well, not counting Gaara the honorary, and Bee. Those two were his comrades, and he greeted them with hugs full of shared experiences, and their dinner talk reflected this.

He couldn't speak for the other jinchuuriki, naturally. How Naruto treated them outside of their usual meetings was unknown to him.

But how he treated them when they were all together, well. That, he could compare.

And as far as Kurunari knew, he was the only one with whom Naruto kept up any sort of regular correspondence, everyone else talking to him only semi-regularly, by letter or by phone.

(Again, Bee and Gaara were exceptions. They were comrades, old friends.)

But there were other things, and they held more weight, as far as Kurunari was concerned.

It was Naruto that had first encouraged him to write. As a child, he hadn't been allowed many toys, neither by the folks at the orphanage, nor by Mizuno. Though pen and paper and crayons he had been allowed, and with them he gave physical form to the little stories that helped him escape, when he felt like not existing for a while. And they were strange, twisty things, full of things that lurked in the dark that sought to do harm to even darker, twistier people.

Naruto had asked to read them during one of his visits, during which Kurunari hadn't bothered to clean up his room and there were still papers full of writing about, and something in them had delighted him, apparently, because he returned the next visit with a book.

"A really good friend of mine wrote this book, and it's inspired a lot of people," Naruto said. "Maybe it'll inspire you, y'know!"

The book was called The Tale of the Gutsy Ninja, and Kurunari was eleven when he read it.

He liked it. The language was simple, but not in a bad way, and he often found himself so drawn into the action that he could imagine the scenes in the book quite clearly. Story-wise, it was also simple. But not in a bad way. Yes, it was… cliché, in many areas, but it was still very moving and exhilarating in many others.

But, interestingly enough, Kurunari found himself most fascinated by the author. His name was Jiraiya, and there was a photograph of him on the back page sleeve.

He could have been Kurunari's father; they had the same square jaw and big nose, and little eyes, and though he was young in the photograph, he had white hair. He seemed far handsomer than Kurunari, however, and his smile was full of confidence.

Naruto had said that he had been a friend of his, too. And, Kurunari had noticed, Naruto himself shared a name with the main character, which was very interesting.

Kurunari asked about all of these things during their next visit, in the meantime reading the book again, and again. And he managed to get the question in, at a table in his residence, piles of paper with his own writing neatly set off to the side.

"Jiraiya-sensei was my teacher," Naruto explained, smiling. "He was also a great ninja, but he told me all the time that, if he had the option, he'd just drop it all and write forever. He was still writing when he was training me, y'know. I miss him a lot." His voice slipped, with those last words.

"Miss him?" Kurunari said.

"He… passed away when I was maybe sixteen or so. Right before the war started, y'know," Naruto explained. His blue eyes darkened further, despite the silk-smile on his face.

(And Kurunari was suddenly and painfully reminded of an expression much like that one, but far darker and far more painful.)

(Naruto had worn it during their previous meet-up, in the summer. Something had happened at the chuunin exams, something very bad, and Naruto had only been able to manage one further meeting with the jinchuuriki after it happened before retreating to his offices with a written apology saying that he wasn't feeling very well.)

(He looked so broken and not-himself in that instance that Gaara asked him if he really wanted to be there, if he would rather be resting, and followed him out of the room when Naruto excused himself, with a cracked smile that was leaking tears.)

"Oh," Kurunari said. He squirmed in his seat. "I'm sorry…"

"Hell are you apologizing for?" the slug said.

"What are you apologizing for?" Naruto said. "There's nothing wrong with asking, y'know." His smile, now warm, was genuine reassurance, though Kurunari still felt somewhat angry at himself for asking about such things.

"Not like you coulda known, kid, seriously, chin up," the slug said.

"So… did he write the book while you were training together?" Kurunari asked, feeling like moving on would improve his mood.

"Nah, Gutsy Ninja was just his first. He wrote a bunch more after that," Naruto said. His smile suddenly widened. "Did you know, though, I was actually named after that guy?"

"Wow!" said Kurunari, with widened eyes. "I thought he named the main character after you."

This made Naruto laugh. "No, no, no. Him and my dad were actually really tight - he was my dad's teacher, too, did you know? - and that's where my name came from - that book. Cool story, right?"

"Yeah, that's really something…" Kurunari replied. He fidgeted again. "Um…"

"What's up?" Naruto said.

"Well, it's just, I'm wondering, did this Jiraiya man ever have children of his own?" he asked.

(Because that resemblance. Kurunari was young, and even with his strange changeling-relative theory almost invalidated by now knowing the time of Jiraiya's death, it was far too insistent for him to let go of.)

(He had even sent out a letter to the orphanage about it, asking if there was any information available about his parents, or who had even just left him there. And the matron's answer - and it had come quickly, because he had used the official government stationary and bird messengers - revealed that Kurunari had been left in their care by a nervous-looking young man with white hair that had refused to answer many questions and left very quickly, promising to never return. The only thing he left behind was Kurunari's name.)

(Kurunari didn't get in trouble for this. He had learned, over the years, that there were ways to avoid Mizuno's attentions.)

(It helped the uneasiness that came with the increased belief that, yes, he really was related to this Jiraiya man, somehow.)

"Eh, not that I know of," Naruto replied. "Though Jiraiya-sensei was real friendly with ladies. I mean, there's a reason why I used to call him ero-sennin when he was still around."

"…ero… sennin?" Kurunari said.

"Yeah, like, pervy sage," Naruto explained. "'Cos he was a sage, it was certified and everything, an' he was also kinda, well, pervy! Man, there like were a ton of times where he'd go out an' come back late at night with women, but nothin' ever happened while I was there. Probably 'cos I was so young, haha. So, I dunno, always a possibility." Naruto rested his chin on one of his hands, eyes closing as he thought. "It'd be weird if that were true and I suddenly met one of 'em, I think. But cool, y'know?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure…" Kurunari said.

Naruto finally seemed to notice his discomfort. "What, something bothering you about that?" he asked.

"Oh, no, no, not at all," he replied, waving a hand in polite dismissal. "I was just wondering."

And Naruto just tilted his head, waiting for the next thing to say.

Kurunari provided it. "So what did he, um, write after Gutsy Ninja, then…? I'd love to read more of his work."

"I… think that you're best off reading that stuff when you're older, Kurunari-kun," Naruto replied, with almost nervous, but mostly amused laughter. "He went on to write some raunchy stuff after that. It's good, y'know, he got a lot of fans for it, but it's definitely for adults."

"Doesn't sound so bad," the slug said, with a gurgling chuckle.

The uncomfortable feeling in Kurunari's stomach increased. "Ah…"

"Maybe when you're older, I'll lend you some copies," Naruto said, brightly. "Though if you lose interest, that's no big deal. I kinda only sorta liked 'em, myself. Gutsy Ninja's definitely my favorite."

After which, they talked some more about Kurunari's writing. He had a new story idea, about a human child kidnapped and raised by sea demons, and escaping to find that the demons had left an evil version of himself in his real family's custody. Naruto seemed to like it, but then again, Naruto seemed to like all of his stories.

After he left, Kurunari went to go learn more about Jiraiya. Kirigakure had a wonderful library, after all, a very clean, square building. One of the few places Mizuno felt was a good place for Kurunari to spend his free time.

He wasn't able to find any of his books, not even The Tale of the Gutsy Ninja. Then again, he wasn't really expecting to.

(The Kirigakure library had a tendency of keeping "irrelevant" material out.)

(Kurunari did, eventually, manage to read the Icha Icha series. He didn't like them, though he supposed he understood the… appeal. Even if it wasn't for him.)

History books, however - the good ones, the ones that Kurunari knew were real - had much to say about the man.

Words like Sannin and war hero were used; a great deal of talk about his achievements in long-settled wars. More photographs, of him and two others: a man with captivatingly strange eyes and a hard smile, and a beautiful woman that seemed like she'd be more at home as a face on a propaganda poster. And in reading more about her, about how she was later a Hokage, Kurunari got the distinct impression that she'd probably have scared him witless, if he had known her.

And the other man, well. He was fascinating in the way that mad scientists were fascinating, with his seeming lack of morals and restraint. He seemed like a terrific protagonist for a story, Kurunari thought, if he weren't real. Especially with that face of his.

But of all things, the man Jiraiya's accomplishments in balancing writing and war were inspiring. Naruto had encouraged him, but Jiraiya had really caused him to move forward.

Naturally, Mizuno disapproved. Because Kurunari had to train. Slough off his clumsiness and uselessness.

"What good are you to the country if you're just sitting about and writing ghost stories all day? Put that silly dream out of your head."

He tried not to let it bother him, and he continued to write, stories of slimy things, with tentacles and glittering pustule-eyes.

When he felt it was safe enough, he shared them with Tonbo, as well as Naruto. And she liked them more than he did.

"Make one about a bug creature human monster guy!" she exploded, during one discussion. "That would be so awesome."

And after he got her to elaborate on the concept - namely, she wanted a story about a person turning into a giant bug, or the other way around - Kurunari did write it for her, as a ninth birthday gift. And she loved it.

For Kurunari's twentieth birthday, Naruto had surprised him by introducing him to a representative from the publishing house that had put out Jiraiya's stories, during some down time during the winter chuunin exams. The meeting could have gone horribly, and it would have soured his mood considerably more, the morning being filled with the business of heirs and the usual passive-aggressive lectures on how much less he was worth than Yuu (though the slug's commentary had attempted to inject some relief into him).

But while Kurunari's stories were "not exactly the sort of thing we usually publish," the representative instead arranged for a meeting with a sister publishing house, that specialized in pulpier, squishier stories. And things led to other things, and Kurunari's stories were arranged into a collection and released in the Land of Fire. Sales were slow, but optimistic, but it wasn't like Kurunari cared much about that.

He'd done at least a little. That was nice.

Though the representative had left him with one thing, before leaving that initial meeting. "You're a dead ringer for Jiraiya, I gotta say. You sure you're not related?"

"I'm… well, I'm too young to be his son," Kurunari admitted, quietly. His face felt a little hot. "Not sure about anything else…"

"Grandson, then?"

"…always a possibility, I guess. Um."

Even if that was what it was - and even all those years later, the possibility wouldn't leave him alone, almost haunting him with the inspiration it provided - it didn't make that much of a difference.

Except on the nights when he thought that maybe Naruto was just being so nice to him because of this. Treating him so preciously because he was the only thing left of a beloved sensei.

…but then he thought about Naruto and figured it really didn't matter. Because that was Naruto. His family without blood.

It didn't matter who Kurunari was or wasn't. Naruto was still kind to him, and that was what mattered.

(He didn't even feel like he was being brash, thinking this way. It was just the truth.)