Birth of A New Age

It was summer when the storms came. Roiling black clouds crawled over the mountainside, humid and dense, spitting thunder and lightning.

The sheep bleated, the wolves waited, and when lightning veined the sky and thunder trumpeted after, a father told his son that demons were gathering, singing up the storms, as he herded the boy inside.

A shout pierced through the wall of evening heat, a distant and pained howl, carried by the wind, drowned out by thunder seconds later. The farmer, HIro, paused to look over his shoulder, out to the black sky, to the smoke rising above the trees ahead.

"You were joking about demons, right, Papa?" his son, Enma, asked before his father nudged him inside. Hiro said nothing, only parted the curtains and peered out into the storm later.

There was a house up the road, lonely and broken and far too old, abandoned during the war. But two refugees had patched the holes in its walls and fixed the glassless windows; had tended its garden of weeds until it grew vegetables again, repainted, slaved away. Sometimes Hiro could see smoke rising from the chimney. The farmer had met the boys once, earlier at the end of spring, at the end of war. What were their names? Ah yes, Daisuke and Akira.

Akira had been badly injured, and kept his scarred eyes hidden from the world behind a blindfold and wasn't much of a talker, though the last time he saw the young man, he'd taken to tying the dark piece of cloth around his right eye, a bandanna as a makeshift eyepatch, leaving his left free. Daisuke made up for all of Akira's silence with laughter and a good-natured spirit, but he looked to the horizon like he was waiting for the end of the world. There was something older about him. Sadder and wiser.

Hiro rarely crossed paths with them, but when he did, he liked their company.

He thought of the shout, and suddenly he wondered, if he traveled up the road in the morning, if someone would still answer the door. And so HIro took his son into his arms and watched the storm warily.

The rain fell harder. The wind pulled at the trees, and up the road, in the little house Hiro knew, a demon tried to break free.

It happened in the kitchen, the fight, and there was blood on the floor to prove it. Every room lay empty, forgotten, except the kitchen. The lights were out, and only the erratic spark of lightning made the house glow blue.

It was quiet in the kitchen. Too quiet, and Sasuke knew that. His vision blurred, shifted, and he hunched over, eye shut, in a vain attempt to keep the pain in his head at bay. The muscles in his legs were screaming in protest; he'd been in a crouch for...he didn't know anymore. It had gone on too long. He clapped a hand over his eye. He'd never kept the Mangekyo activated for so long. His left eye stung. Ached. Bled.

Sasuke had seen many things. Terrible things. He'd lived through the fourth Great Ninja War and watched thousands of souls die. He'd seen the dead sprawled through streets of blood when he was no older than seven. Yet, there had been few moments in his life where Sasuke had experienced true terror. This...this had been one of those times, and it had taken Sasuke everything he had, everything, not to look away and pray, even though he knew no gods. He wasn't used to it. He wasn't used to someone needing him like this when he could do nothing but say It'll be over soon. I promise. I promise.

Before him, Naruto began to slump over, and Sasuke kept his head from lolling with a quick hand, and a hoarse, "Hey. Don't go to sleep. Stay awake." Naruto only grunted in response, something unintelligible. He didn't open his eyes. He was still sitting up somehow, slumped, chin to his chest, back to the counters with the chipped blue paint that they still hadn't painted over. The ones stocked with the powdered milk they'd collected over time, and Sasuke could remember Naruto putting away a tin of it, looking at the jars in a row, an unreadable expression on his face, but then he'd catch Sasuke looking and smile.

They'd spent spring in the house, toiling away, ripping away rotten wood, painting rooms, Naruto getting away with pranks (like that time Sasuke sat in a puddle of white paint), and Sasuke pretending he was too much of a stuck-up to laugh. The nights were spent against warm chests, wrapped in arms and legs, laughing in the dark because Naruto was kissing a trail up Sasuke's stomach and saying see? No one's around to hear. They didn't have a bed, or even a rug then. They'd rock on the cold floor until the world melted away and Naruto would rake fingers through Sasuke's hair, pulling him close when it all spilled over. Other nights it was Sasuke pulling him close, whispering in his ear, fingers digging into hot skin, looking for an anchor. Some days Naruto would grow quiet and stare out the window, and Sasuke knew what he was waiting for. Sasuke would only need to touch him lightly on the shoulder, and he'd turn around, come back.

But Naruto only sighed when Sasuke's hand brushed his shoulder.

It had only been seconds since it happened. And Sasuke should have felt relief, now that the hours were done, now that Kyuubi was spent and chained, now that Naruto was finally quiet and not damning him to hell. They could rest. It was over.

But there was no relief. And Sasuke's heart kept on pumping, like he'd been running the entire last five hours. His hands shook, and Sasuke looked down.

It was in Sasuke's lap, the child, and Sasuke wondered if the gods he didn't want to believe in were laughing at him, at all of them, because the child was still, and the cord was wrapped, twice, around its little neck.

He couldn't stop the tremor in his hands, even when he shook his hands out forcefully, and his throat went dry. The heat in the kitchen pressed in closely, but Sasuke's skin puckered in a chill. He remembered a promise he'd made once, and he felt sick with it all. This was the moment, he realized. It would have been the right moment to have done nothing at all.

Did it matter anymore, he wondered.

But maybe Sasuke had stopped believing in ill fortune somewhere along the way, because his only impulse was to do something. But he didn't know what. He stared at it. It had a human face, round and innocent. And tiny, tiny, human hands. Small, long feet that could both fit in the palm of one hand. A dusting of dark hair. A baby boy.

He could have done nothing.

Instead, Sasuke worked quickly, freeing the baby of his binds, hooking a finger in his little puckered mouth,

Sasuke vaguely remembered calling it little demon as he rubbed its back, blew air into its mouth. "He doesn't mean that!" Naruto would laugh, but Sasuke never missed the look in Naruto's eyes. The trepidation. And Sasuke would say yes I did.

The newborn was quiet. It twitched.

And Sasuke prayed even though he didn't know he was doing it, and shouted without looking up, "Don't go to sleep, Naruto!" .

"...'m tired…" came the croaked response, and Sasuke nearly shouted in frustration, because Naruto was already slipping, already falling asleep.

"I know," Sasuke said quietly, pressing on the child's tiny chest, puffing air into his mouth and waiting. "I know." Desperate, Sasuke began to rub the baby's back, his feet,(hadn't he seen midwives doing that once to make babies breathe when they didn't cry? He remembered seeing it when his cousin was born, and he'd gotten in trouble for trying to look.) hoping for something, anything.

"...s...wha's...happening?" Naruto's head shifted, tried to look up, winced, grimaced and groaned, sinking back against the counters. He'd lost a lot of blood, Sasuke realized with mounting apprehension. He felt sick again. Images of what had just happened flashed before him, but he culled them quick. He hated this. Feeling desperate. Like he was trapped and could only watch from behind bars.

He could still hear the rumbling bass of the Kyuubi as it battled with Naruto, and it had said, you can't win, Uchiha.

Maybe no one had.

All Sasuke could think was, this can't be all for nothing. He bit back a growl of frustration. Gently righted Naruto's head and went back to work.

It had only been seconds, but it felt like hours.

He thought of Fukasaku saying you never loved it. You never wanted it anyway.

He hated that he was shaking, that he was exhausted and his thoughts whirred in a frenzy. He couldn't decide whether to look at Naruto and yell at him to stay awake, to hold on, or to keep doing something about this. He almost let the baby slide to the floor to catch Naruto's face in his hands.

Lightning sparked again, and this time, a thin, gurgling wail echoed through the kitchen. So Sasuke kept him in his lap.

It was alive. He was alive, and Sasuke held him loosely as the baby began to stretch, reach out and clench small fists. It started to yell, gaining vigor as the storm raged on. Sasuke let him kick, let him cry, just let him lay there in his lap. He didn't know what to feel, what to do with the newborn. For a moment, Sasuke's mind was blank. He blinked at the tiny boy. Clumsily covered him in a towel.

His chance had come and gone, and Sasuke realized he'd made his choice. The baby tried to root against his thigh, and Sasuke laughed. It was brittle, the type of laugh someone laughed when they couldn't believe they were still alive.

The baby flailed, and Sasuke gently righted him in his lip. He thought he could see Naruto in this little face. His mother's nose. He hadn't….Well. Sasuke didn't know what he had been expecting. He hadn't expected it to feel this real. Hadn't thought he'd think of Mikoto.

He hadn't thought he'd be thinking of his child.

The storm still raged, and the baby's cries grew louder. Sasuke's heart seemed to flip when he looked over at Naruto. He moved too fast, and the baby almost slid to the floor again.

"Naruto," Sasuke said, and he gently slapped at his cheek, "Stay awake. He's here. It's over."

Naruto sighed deeply, and Sasuke watched his chest rise and fall. Naruto cracked open an eye, motioned for Sasuke to scoot closer with a jerk of his chin. "Lemme see 'im."

On that night, the twenty-ninth of May, Minato was born.

The pain had made his eyes water, and at one point, he'd thought he felt a hip snap, and when he screamed he'd almost wished for death. And the burn. Oh, the burn. HIs skin had been on fire as the Kyuubi tried to surface. His jaw still hurt from keeping his teeth clenched, as if he could have kept his teeth from sharpening into fangs.

Only Sasuke had kept him anchored as the demon called. We'll see who's left alive, it had taunted, gleeful. But, as it threatened to overwhelm him, and he slipped from reality to the demon's cage, Naruto had seen his mother again, and he would remember it always, until the day he died.

Kushina had been beautiful. An angel, and he'd nearly wept upon seeing her. Briefly, he'd wondered if he had already died. She'd shushed him with a mother's touch, whispering strength in his ear. Her spirit had chains, he remembered.

You cannot win, the Kyuubi had growled. You're stronger than I expected, and a being such as I can respect power, but one day, Naruto. One day I will be free. And Naruto remembered, remembered hugging his mother, thanking her as she helped chain the beast so familiarly like she had before, and he remembered looking the Kyuubi in the eye. He laughed and said then keep learning to respect me, cause this is as far as you go!

He'd leaped at with a rasen-shuriken as it attempted to claw its way out of Kushina's chains, and that was all he could remember.

He'd heard a cry, asked to see, and then the world had faded away.

It was a dull ache now, his pain, bone-deep, and Naruto wondered how long he'd been lying there dreaming. The Kyuubi was strangely silent, after weeks of whispering to him. I'll have my revenge, it had said while he slept, and I'll see it through the eyes of your son.

Naruto moved his legs experimentally, didn't feel any broken bones. His throat stung, and he was so, so thirsty. The room was dark, and he heard a whimper, a shush, saw the silhouette by the window.

It was evening again. The sky had reddened, like the mountaintops had pierced it.

Naruto didn't get up. He watched.

Sasuke was bare chested, the baby lying flat on his skin in a cloth diaper that looked too large. The newborn looked ruddy, darker than Sasuke, wisps of fine black hair on his head. They were asleep, in the chair by the window that Naruto liked so much.

Naruto stared at the baby on Sasuke's chest and thought it's so small. He tried to remember what it was. A boy, he thought, and he swallowed, wincing. He was so small, and it was all Naruto could think for a moment.

"Want me to bring him over to you?" Sasuke asked without opening an eye, startling him. His voice was flat, tired. Naruto was silent. He just...wanted to watch for a minute.

He'd thought about it. He'd wondered about it. But now he was seeing it, and that was different than just feeling it.

He swallowed, heard his throat tick along with it. "Yeah," he whispered. "Okay." His voice grated against a raw throat, made him sound like he was gargling rocks. Sasuke waited a moment before he sighed and rose from the chair.

Gently, gingerly, Sasuke placed the baby on the bed. He whimpered, stretched, stuck a fist in his mouth and scrunched his face.

"Maybe he's hungry again," Sasuke said tiredly, and Naruto only said, "hmm."

He watched him, his son, without moving. The baby opened his eyes, just for a moment, and they were dark. Almost gray. Slowly, tentatively, Naruto reached out, put a hand on his soft stomach. A little breath, a tiny laugh, escaped through his nose when he realized how large his hand was next to the newborn.

There had been many times when Naruto wasn't sure he'd ever see this moment. The fox inside him said nothing, and it was blissfully quiet in his mind.

Naruto brought the baby closer, tucking him away in his side, and that was when it happened: the moment he knew he loved his son.

When winter came, Naruto looked to a gray sky, watched Minato stare up at the snowflakes with coal black eyes. For a moment he watched the edge of the sky, waited, as if someone might materialize out of the snow. Minato was seven months old, and his little mouth opened in a grin. He squealed suddenly, reaching for the sky with chubby fingers. Naruto tore his eyes away from the sky, barked out a laugh and said, "like this!" holding out his tongue.

"He'll get cold," Sasuke called out suddenly, and Naruto laughed again, looking over his shoulder to see Sasuke cursing over the house's heater. His face was scrunched, and for the genius he supposedly was, heaters were an enigma.

"Let a pro show you how it's done." He marched over and handed Sasuke an over-bundled up Minato (who could hardly wriggle in all the clothes Sasuke had dressed him when Naruto had decided to bring him outside to see the snow).

"Hn. We'll be over here laughing when you're done," grunted Sasuke, and in the end, he had been.

Naruto had ended up cursing and kicking the heater ("You forget I said that, Minato! Daddy never said anything! And don't laugh, bastard, I'm still winning that bet-shit."), losing the "betcha can't curse for a whole day" challenge (and owing Sasuke a very good night in bed), and stalked to the shed to get an axe and spent his afternoon splitting logs for the furnace.

Night came quickly, in the living room of the little house, the family sat silently on a couch, Naruto's arm drawn over the back, fingers brushing Sasuke's shoulder, who was murmuring to Minato to get him to sleep, a hand rubbing circles into the infant's back.

Some days Naruto had to pause. Had to wonder how he got here on nights like these. Nights where his bones didn't seem to itch for a fight, for the home he left behind when he'd gone into hiding. Nights where he didn't mind sleeping, even if brought the nightmares leftover from the war that jarred him awake and left him lying in bed, paralyzed, until Sasuke's warm arm wrapped around him. Sometimes he dreamed of red moons and jackals and Minato screaming, but every time he woke and looked outside, the moon was always white as bone. Other nights, he could hear the Kyuubi's chains rattling. The fox would growl soon.

Naruto spent the summer waiting for Minato to roll over. Sometimes their neighbors, old man Hiro and his wife Natsumi, came over for dinner after Naruto had taken the time to befriend them. They had a boy named Enma who loved looking over Minato. Some afternoons he spent working side by side with Sasuke in the garden. Smiling when Sasuke realized he'd planted the cherry tomatoes instead of the peppers he'd talked about. Laughing when he watched Sasuke from a distance, when Sasuke didn't think he was being watched. He'd hold Minato close and tell stories, and Naruto would think this is nice, before looking out the window and waiting for a sign. At night they'd slip out, leaving Minato's bedroom window open, and spar in the lawn like nothing had changed.

It was nice. Naruto wanted nice. But he also wanted peace. A freer world Minato could grow up in. The war had ended, but the Hidden Villages were hit hard in the aftermath. Assassinations, missing children with bloodline limits, new cutthroat politics, whole ninja academies shut down.

One night he and Sasuke had been hanging over the crib, watching Minato sleep, and Sasuke had said, "We'll need to teach him, Naruto. One day, the Sharingan might awaken." And he looked excited at the thought, interested, and Naruto thought him selfish then. He looked away from Sasuke.

"Bad time to be a ninja," he said resentfully. Sasuke only placed a hand on his shoulder and said nothing.

Now children who showed promise in the Hidden Villages' schools were being directed to an academy at the Fire Country's capital, where the Fire Lord resided, to become ninja for their country, not their village. Now the Villages were being populated by Guardian and Fire Country nin to protect the country's secrets. The new Hokage had a bland face, and a name Naruto had never heard of. It was a farce. A bald faced lie. Ninja from the war either adapted or were stripped of their title. Respected Jounin given resignation letters after showing anger or questioning this new way.

There had never been a higher number of rogues in Fire Country. Whispers and rumors spread like the grass seeds wandering on the wind, from Hidden Village to small town tea shop to the merchants on the road, to the workers in the rice paddies and the farmers in the mountains. They're running, Naruto heard once, running 'cause they're not supposed to be ninja no more, and the Fire Country's labeled 'em criminals, and they're hunting 'em down like dogs. And sometimes Naruto would see the rogues flitting through the wood on the edge of their property, quicker than the sparrows fluttering from tree to tree. Sometimes he'd approach them, holding Minato close to his chest, and say wait. Tell me what's going on out there. It was the only way he knew.

"Naruto," Sasuke said suddenly, and Naruto turned to look at him.

"It won't stay like this."

It was all he needed to say, and Naruto sighed against him, splayed his hand against his son's back and watched Minato sleep.

Their time would come.

When Minato was three, Sasuke was crouching in the tall grass of Hiro's wheat field. A cold war had frosted over the Grass Country's borders and stalled their imports. More farmers were growing wheat along with their rice. Tensions rose on the border. There was talk of war, but it never came. A wind blew hot, making the wheat sway like gold under an early autumn sun, and Minato pointed, saying, "Look, Father, look."

It was a fox, bounding through the field, and Sasuke held Minato close. "Quiet," he whispered, "Or she'll hear you." The small boy clamped his mouth shut, eyes wide, and together, they watched the fox leap and bound and catch a mouse, trotting through the fields and streaking across the farmer's green yard.

"Where's she going?" Minato whispered. Sasuke smirked and ruffled his son's hair.

"She's got babies to feed." He hefted his son onto his back and stood tall, pretending to choke when the little boy clamped arms around his neck. Minato's head craned over the field and his eyes narrowed in such a way that he looked remarkably like Naruto then. Curious, determined, thinking so hard you could almost hear his thoughts.

Minato said, "Where's my mother?"

Sasuke paused, making the boy giggle when he hopped a little to shift the boy on his shoulders. Minato spotted two other heads in the field up ahead, a tanned blond face stretching long arms above the wheat and yawning one of his "giant yawns" as Minato called them, and an older lined face that had seen too much sun. Naruto made a funny face and milked giggles from Minato, waving to him from across the field. There were other Narutos, too, trailing through the wheat across the field, some complaining, some joking, others working to bundle the wheat silently.

Today was harvesting day. On days like these, Sasuke thought of the Yamagatas, and when he'd get home, Naruto would join him in the kitchen after Minato went to bed, and Sasuke would light a candle. Like he did on his mother's birthday, his father's, Itachi's.

"You have me, you have your Dad, and that is all you need," Sasuke finally answered, and this seemed to sate the boy's curiosity enough, because he wriggled like an eel suddenly until Sasuke set him down, watching him streak through the wheat and leap into Naruto's arms.

"AH! YOU GOT ME!" Naruto was playing dead, trying not to wince when Minato bounced up on down on his stomach.

"Hey! You're not dead, Dad," said the boy very seriously, mouth twisting in a frown, and Naruto let his tongue loll out of the side of his mouth for effect. Minato poked him hard in the stomach, and Naruto giggled.

Game over.

Sasuke watched, as lover and child scrambled upright, weaving through the wheat, and Naruto chased Minato into Hiro's yard, scooping the boy up with a playful roar. Enma, Hiro's boy, came bounding out of the house to babble excitedly to Naruto, hand held out as little Minato play-punched it, as if he did it so often he hardly blinked an eye at the little boy's growling.

Hiro wandered over, mopping his brow with his shirt, squinting through the wheat. "Minato's a good little boy."

Sasuke grabbed a bundle of wheat. "He looks up to Enma."

Hiro made a noise of acknowledgement, then waved his hand dismissively before saying, "We got a letter today. There's a school opening up through Konoha at the mountain's base in the spring. Gonna be a wagon coming up the road now to pick up kids. Enma has a chance to go. Maybe be a ninja one day if he passes the requirements." A pained expression flickered across Hiro's face, but Sasuke also saw pride. He frowned.

"These aren't good times for ninja," he said slowly, watching as Naruto's grin slid from his face as Enma plowed on with what was probably the same story Hiro was relating. He watched Naruto's eyes flicker to the wheat, and he knew Naruto was looking for him.

"My boy wants to go. Look at him. So excited." Hiro scratched at his neck, watching his son.

Sasuke shrugged, reached for a bundle of wheat. "Minato will miss him."

And he would.

That night in bed Naruto sat on the edge, staring out the window, and Sasuke knew he was waiting. Minato had fallen asleep long ago, the candle had been lit, and they'd crawled into bed, huddled under the sheets, and Sasuke had watched Naruto's lips above him, watched them twist and grin and grimace as his hands followed the contours of his body, touching all the right places, his mouth seeking others. And Naruto had laughed in that carefree way Sasuke secretly liked so much, and said don't wake Minato.

Now those moments were gone, and Sasuke drifted in an out of sleep. The third time he woke, Naruto had no longer been beside him, brooding on the foot of the bed. He sighed, thinking of nights Naruto sat listening to the whispered threats of the demon fox, or thinking of some old prophecy that never came true. Naruto began to talk.

"I don't know why they still think it's okay to send Enma to that school," he said after a while, and Sasuke could hear the anger in his voice, the uncertainty. A part of him wanted to say it's none of our business anyway but then he wondered if Naruto figured it was, because of the way the war had taken shape. The Kobayashi's were his friends, their friends, and Naruto's friends had a habit of slowly becoming extended family.

Naruto had this habit of trying to shoulder too much. Sasuke exhaled slowly.

"I told Hiro," Sasuke sighed, reaching over to tug on Naruto's wrist and force him down, "that it wasn't a good time."

Naruto pulled himself closer. "Minato told me he wanted to be a ninja today."

Sasuke looked out at the moon. "What did you say?"

Naruto snorted. "That he wasn't old enough." He pulled away again, running a hand through his short hair like he had an itch. His knee bobbed. He was restless. Sasuke raised a brow. He knew the itch, and his eye drifted to the drawer near the closet, the locked one.

"Hn." He waited a moment to wake up, to stretch, before he said, "Wanna fight?"

A smile flickered across Naruto's face. He popped up and stretched, scratching his chest absently as he wandered for the drawer, a fox-like grin splitting his mouth. In the dark his tan skin seemed to ripple with the muscle underneath as he bent to unlock it. "Loser does the bathroom for a month." He paused to add with a snicker, "And has to give an early morning blowjob."

Sasuke rolled his shoulders, a little more interested. He scoffed. "Tch. You're confident."

Naruto laughed, twirling a kunai on his index finger before palming it, deftly leaping out the window with a cocky, "All the best are." And Sasuke was glad to see the shadow leave Naruto's face, the one that kept waiting for word from Kakashi, the one that kept saying there has to be another way to stop this other than taking out everyone who disagrees with you. A way to keep balance.

Sasuke took a kunai and slipped out the window.

It was blood, sweat, and grass on their clothes by the time the sun began to rise, pink over the horizon, silver mist clinging to the ground. He'd pinned Naruto to the ground with a foot, smirking when he disappeared and a kunai pressed against his throat, lips on his ear. Naruto had gotten quick. Sasuke made a note of this. He'd have to get quicker.

"Gotcha."

Early morning found Sasuke pressed against Naruto, who was grinning ear to ear, because he'd won.

That afternoon Sasuke watched Minato dig in the garden with Naruto. He'd shed his shirt just like his dad, cheeks smudged with dirt, and after Naruto showed the boy a worm, Sasuke watched his head turn to the west, gazing out to the sky.

Sasuke looked. Only a hawk sailed through the summer sky.

Naruto was still waiting.

A/N: These chapters will be shorter. Again I was originally going to do this in one big chapter, but decided to split these last few chapters up. They will end up spanning over the course of the next 19 years after Minato's birth and will end when Minato is 19. Next chapter: Minato. *Wiggles in seat* Ahh I can't wait to get those up! Then the very last chapter is called The Wanderers. Let's see if I can complete and edit this beast of a story in the next few days. It'd be nice xD I'd like to have it wrapped up by Christmas if I have the time, and have another chapter of Born This Way up by then.

Preview for Minato:

Minato hesitated. He held his kunai to his chest and swallowed. This tree looked like it was making a face. The next one looked like it was reaching out for him. Minato glared at them, and reared his arm back, throwing the kunai as if it might hit them.

It landed with a dull thud in the grass. He sighed, wriggled his toes, used a cuss word he'd get sent to the corner for just for effect, and trudged over to get it.

And that was when Minato saw them. His fathers.

They were fighting on the pond, and his first thought was to say stop it! but he froze, and his eyes grew wide. It wasn't fighting he'd ever seen them do. Their feet made the pond's surface ripple, and it was bright under the moon. They made it look as solid as a sheet of glass, and they moved like ninja, but even better than the ones on the television at Enma's.