A New Frontier

by Wickerstein

The strong devour the weak. That has always remained a fundamental law of nature. To think otherwise is farcical. For no matter what, there will always be a winner and a loser.

8. Tough I

Disclaimer: All respective characters and settings belong to their respective franchises.

---

The sound of the door nearly being swung off of its hinges resounded throughout the foyer as an ecstatic Uzumaki Naruto raced inside his apartment, a spring in his step, his body electrified with a feeling completely foreign that goosebumps were erupting across every pore of his skin. Never in his life did he ever think; nay, dreamed that he could feel such a sublime but simple sensation of happiness.

He stopped midway by the lobby, his heart all a flutter. In that one moment, his body went rigid, mouth going dry in worry that it wasn't real. He slowly glanced over his shoulder, and there, the sight of Bokomon and Piyomon entering through the door greeted him, the light of the afternoon sun filtering in casting them in a seemingly hallowed background.

This was actually happening.

The three of them were dropped off by Kakashi after being escorted out of the safe house, leaving them with only a small warning not to shoot their mouths off about the meeting, half-joking that he'd have to silence them if they developed a sudden case of loose lips. Naruto and Bokomon gulped, nodding their assent, unlike Piyomon, who merely gave an innocent "okay".

He almost couldn't find the words when they closed the door behind them, Piyomon already swiveling her head left to right as she curiously scanned the place. He closed his eyes, pinching away the tears that threatened to spill.

"Make yourselves at home!" Naruto exclaimed a little louder than he intended, but he didn't care in the slightest whether the other tenants heard him or not. He didn't care about anything else other than the two who would be rooming with him from that day forth. "There's the living room," he thumbed to his right, then to the left, "and over there is the kitchen."

It was impossible for Bokomon to not sense his enthusiasm. "Mind slowing down? We're not going anywhere else."

Naruto winced, a hand reaching around to scratch the back of his head. "Oh, right!" He quickly rebounded. "Wait'll you guys see my room. Ooh, and if any of you want to use the bathroom, it's right down that corridor, and over there is-"

As Naruto went about giving them a guided tour, Bokomon couldn't help but notice the state the apartment was in. While it wasn't cluttered too much, there was a noticeable layer of dust and grime, his furniture sporting dark smudges, complete with a smell that he would have gotten used to the longer he lingered. Being left to live on his own, Naruto must have only been doing the basics of maintaining hygiene. Once they had entered his room, Bokomon was tempted to pinch his tiny nostrils, while Piyomon was more direct.

"What's that smell?" she asked, both hands cupping her nose.

Naruto blinked. "Eh? Oh, uh, I…haven't really cleaned up in a while. B-B-But, I'll do it now, if you want."

Bokomon smiled at the boy. "How about we all pitch in? It's a start to getting a feel of the place." He sauntered up to a discarded shirt on the floor, rife with a foul odor. "We're gonna need to do the laundry, too. We can just leave this to wash while we work."

Naruto leaned down to take a whiff of the used shirt and reeled back with a choke, pinching his nose tightly. "Urgh! Yeah, let's…let's do that. The landlord hoards all the stuff we need."

Bokomon patted his palms together after dumping the offending garment into the hamper. "We're gonna need some gloves, too."

In an arguably rare moment of clarity, Naruto peered down at the two Digimon's appendages. "Um, I'm not sure we got any that's your…size or…"

"Not a problem," Bokomon stated as he scanned the rest of the room. They had their work cut out for them as he was eyeing two cockroaches scurrying under the bed, feeding off of an empty ramen cup. "Okay, maybe just a tiny bit of a problem."

Making a quick stop to the landlord, Naruto requested the keys to the broom closet. The man gave him one of his usual looks, glowering at him with contempt, before his eyes traveled downward and nearly jumped at the sight of the odd creatures. "The hell? Hey, you should know the rules. No pets!"

Naruto frowned. "They're not pets! This guy here is my uncle, and this one is a Summon that the Hokage asked me to take care of."

The landlord scoffed, either not caring or stubbornly refusing to believe him. This left the young Uzumaki wondering if the issue of the new tenants had indeed been resolved. "Yeah right! I wasn't born yesterday. The exact second the Hokage himself decides to trust you with anything, I'll eat my underwear. The one I'm wearing now, even. I'm only going to tell you this one more time, or I'm throwing you out." He took a deep breath, before booming out, "NO PE-"

The words immediately died in his throat when a sudden chill permeated the air, his body seizing up. "Uh, y-y-y-you know what, never mind. H-H-Here!"

His tone having changed, the landlord shakily slipped a hand into his pocket and drew out the keys to the broom closet, which Naruto took without a word, the man's fingers trembling. He and Bokomon also picked up on it - killing intent. Small, but only enough to spook a civilian. The boy and his friends bowed before going on their way. Had they cared to stay for longer, they would have caught a glimpse of the man tugging at the hem of his pants as he was closing his door.

The boy didn't have to think hard to figure out that it was a shinobi, likely his guard detail. Ever since finding out his true role as the village's not-so-secret weapon, most of the pieces of his life that had been evading him for years fell into place. He was missing the drive to be upset, but he'd be lying if he said out loud that it didn't bother him. Was their surveillance constant? Were they watching him even during his most private moments?

The paranoia made him shudder.

"I'm guessing that was a warning," Bokomon whispered to him as they made their way down the corridor. "Is he always like that?"

Naruto thought for a moment. "He once tried to lock me out in the same year I started living here."

"Really?"

"Yeah, but…I guess he's had it hard, too." His thoughts drifted to Teuchi and Ayame, their business having bled customers because of his patronage. In hindsight, in all the years he's resided here, the complex actually had very few tenants. "I guess I can't just dismiss every bad vibe going my way as being unreasonable."

"That's rather empathetic of you," Bokomon observed. "But what he did, and everything else you've had to go through, was still wrong."

"I know, but…if I had been in their place, maybe…"

Would he ever hold such grudges? He still hadn't forgiven the circumstances that led to how his life had turned out, and probably never will, but he had come to understand the reasons why, and that was the best he could settle with. However, a niggling alternative gave him pause.

Would he act with the same resentment and loathing if things had been different? He mulled it over even as he was bringing out the cleaning tools and accessories they needed.

Detergent, a full bottle of bleach, brooms and brushes. The washing machines were down on the first floor near the lobby, where Bokomon dropped off the dirty laundry consisting of clothes and beddings. He himself had found some of Naruto's old garments from back when he was a toddler, and took to wearing them as a disguise after how the landlord had reacted. A gray button up shirt, which he left open to expose his haramaki, orange shorts, and a black knit cap with the symbol of Konoha stitched on the hem. The washer was fairly simple enough to operate. Open the tap, measure the amount of detergent needed, and leave everything to grind.

"You stay here, Piyomon," Bokomon directed the child Digimon, who was seated on a bench from across the row of machines, curiously eyeing five in total. "Now listen carefully, if anyone other than me or Naruto comes along and tells you that they're going to pick up the clothes that are being washed, don't believe them. Just say no, but if they keep insisting, do what you can to deny them. Can you do that?"

"Got it!" Piyomon saluted, confident that she was ready for the appointed task. "You can count on me, Boko-chan."

With a nod, Bokomon returned to the apartment to find Naruto in the midst of wrapping his head with cloth, his mouth already covered, an apron secured around his waist, and hands gloved. The lad went ahead with the cleaning as the scholar prepared.

For the rest of the afternoon and straight into the early evening, the two tirelessly worked to purge every corner of filth, scrubbing and sweeping the apartment from top to bottom. It helped that Naruto had recovered since his recent ordeals; abnormally quickly in fact, leaving him to do the brunt of the workload. Watching him doing most of the heavy lifting, Bokomon had an ulterior motive when he first proposed the cleaning. He wanted to see how much the kid could take before getting tuckered out.

Needless to say, he got more than he expected as Naruto hadn't taken a single break in the five hours they had been busy. The gray shirt he wore was drenched in sweat, but he pressed on like a man possessed. The boy was driven by the determination to give his new roommates a good first impression.

"Done!" he declared haggardly, exhausted, having rinsed off what was left of the mold in his bathroom after giving it a good scrub. His upper body slouched forward, legs splayed out and hands limply resting on the tiled floor that now sparkled like new, he panted heavily through his improvised cloth mask after spending nearly half an hour crouched. Outside, Bokomon shoved the last garbage bag full of trash and other unnecessary junk into the corner for pickup, a small pile having formed over the preceding mound.

The cleaning done, he brushed himself off and made his way back to the laundry, where an odd sight greeted him. The first sign that something wasn't right was a man that limped out of the room, hunkered down, his face obscured by shaggy black hair, clutching his stomach with one arm while the other was being used to keep his balance by leaning against the wall.

Sparing him a passing glance, Bokomon stopped halfway from the entrance when he spied a human hand poking out of the entryway, resting on the floor. Suspicious, he proceeded to enter and found the owner of said hand knocked out cold, lying on his side. Looking on ahead, there was another who was hunched over, on his knees, both arms clutching his stomach and groaning in pain.

From across him, he found Piyomon still seated on the bench, calmly staring at the long inactive washer.

He approached her. "What happened here?"

"Hm?" Piyomon shifted her gaze to Bokomon. "Oh, I was just done sparring."

"Sparring?" Bokomon wondered in surprise, cocking a brow. Piyomon pointed in the direction behind him, sneaking a glimpse at the two men who were beginning to help their unconscious friend up. "Can you tell me how?"

"Well…"

---

A few minutes earlier…

It had been hours as Piyomon had done nothing else but stare at the washer, not that she was capable of keeping time. There were instances that she wanted to leave and explore the outside, boredom gnawing at her, but Bokomon's words and her promise kept her in place. She didn't really get it, but for whatever reason, Naruto would be sad if anything happened to the stuff inside the weird metal box, which had long stopped making sounds. So, steeling herself, she stayed put. Succumbing to a short nap while still sitting up, she awoke to the sounds of whispering. Stirring, she raised her head and blinked away the fog of her vision to see three humans huddled over the machine.

"Wh-Who…" she started to ask, causing the humans; three young men by the looks of it, to glance in her direction. They were taller than Naruto, denoting them as being older, wearing civilian clothes. The one in the middle hissed some words to the guy on his right.

Her senses still picked up on what was said.

"Shit, it's awake."

"What now?" asked the one he spoke with.

"Just ignore it," the young man told him. "It's just one of those Summon things."

"Are you Naru-chan's friends?" Piyomon asked them, rubbing away the sleep left from her eye.

It must have been when she mentioned Naruto that they froze. To her puzzlement, the human in the middle turned around to fully face her, lightly smacking the back of his hands against the arms of who she could presume were his friends. He took a few measured steps towards her until they were just about two feet apart from each other.

"Uh, hi!"

He was thin, with high cheekbones, tanned skin, and stringy short hair. Sunken chocolate brown eyes were burning into her, sporting dark circles. "We're, uh, Naruto's friends, yeah."

The stutter should have given him away, but Piyomon was still too young to pick up on such cues. "What are you doing here?"

Now that she was scanning him more closely, the human was wearing a long sleeve purple shirt, black pants. Two small scars could be made out on his face. One across the ridge of his nose, and one on his upper lip. Her keen eye scoped out a strange black mark that crept up his neck.

It was different from the one Anko showed them hours ago, looking like long thick lines that curved in on each other.

The man cleared his throat to speak more clearly. "Oh, we're just here to pick up Naruto's laundry." And dump them in the trash like last time.

Hearing this, she immediately remembered what Bokomon told her. "He…told you to?"

A devious smirk erupted across the human's face, glancing at each of his cronies that they had this in the bag. "Yeah, he sure did. Even offered to pay us." A real maroon that deserves to get scammed. Falling for one of the oldest tricks after we swooped in to lend him a helping hand.

Piyomon darted an analytical gaze to each of the humans, and the longer she did, something about them just didn't sit well with her. "No."

The man blinked, shaking his head slightly. "Uh, what?"

Piyomon returned the gesture, but out of refusal. "No. You can't take it. Only Naru-chan or Boko-chan can."

Not knowing or caring who the other one the bird mentioned was, the man's smile became strained, but the tone of his voice sounded friendlier than earlier. "Listen, kid, it's okay if you don't believe us, but I swear that Naruto told us that he wants his laundry asap. So, if you're not gonna fork 'em over, he's gonna get real mad at not just us, but you too. You want Naru-chan to be mad at 'ya, huh?"

That should have convinced her, and it almost did, but her instincts became guarded the moment she looked deeper into the man's eyes, her senses aflame, the experience with Falcomon and WereGarurumon still fresh. She didn't like what she saw. "No, you're not Naru-chan's friends. Go away."

The man's face twisted into a frown, dropping the pointless facade. Behind him, his two friends didn't quite expect what he did next. He stomped up to the pink bird and kicked her hard enough to knock her off of the bench, landing on her back with an audible thud. It didn't seem to hurt her, as she didn't make a sound, her poker face betraying neither visible pain nor discomfort.

She blinked, a thought occurring to her from the action.

"Come on, let's just go ahead and dump his shit," the man ordered his friends, looking over his shoulder at them, only to pause when his buddies suddenly became alarmed, pointing at what he easily guessed was the weird bird creature. He whirred his gaze back, finding her standing atop the bench and staring at them, her emerald eyes glassy and penetrating.

"You kicked me."

The man, realizing his mistake, became tense, his companions assuming their guard. Now that they thought about it, word was that shinobi summons were supposed to be tougher than regular animals, and considering there were powerhouses like bears that could maul an average person like nothing. "Y-Yeah? What are you gonna do about it, chickenshit?" he crowed at her, in the hopes of intimidating the bird from retaliating.

"Does that mean…you want to spar?"

"Huh?"

Faster than they could perceive, she kicked her feet off of the bench and levered a foot to the man's groin, sending him reeling in untold dimensions of pain. She twisted in midair, swinging in another kick with her other leg that batted him across the room near the entrance, out like a light before he even landed.

His friends, more enraged than terrified, engaged her as soon as her feet touched back down. The first one made a lunging swing with his fist, which she dodged with a sway of her body, having grown used to Naruto's speedier movements. She uppercutted him in the side, unknowingly striking him square in the liver, heedless of how much power she put into her fist, hard claws doubling the damage. He sank to the floor, choking out the contents of his stomach.

The second one hesitated upon seeing this, before gathering what little courage he could and let out a shrill roar, rushing forward to grab her. Piyomon avoided the pincer of his arms by ducking, then sprang upward using her strong legs, the angle of her body enabling her to headbutt him slightly above the groin area. With a suffering squeal, he too went down.

Piyomon, the only one left standing, waited for them to recover and resume. When none of them made any strides, she threw her wings up in victory.

"Yay! I won!"

---

Present…

"And that's what happened," Piyomon concluded.

Bokomon scrunched his nose from the smell of bile on the floor. "Well, at least you kept your promise." He sighed. "With all the cleaning me and Naruto did, cooking sounds like a chore now, so we're eating out tonight."

"Eating out?" She idly lobbied one last look at the retreating forms of the three that "sparred" with her, sending them off with a jovial wave. "Bye! I had fun!"

They didn't; or couldn't, bother with a reply, off to lick their wounds, with a silent promise to never bother the young Uzumaki again to avoid another confrontation.

"I'll just take care of this," Bokomon said as he set up the washer to dry. "Go on up ahead and tell Naruto to get ready."

"Okay!" Piyomon obeyed, scurrying her way up the stairs.

Elsewhere…

"She's cute," a woman with long purple hair observed, standing on the rooftop of a nearby building, positioned just so that she had spied on the scuffle that went down. "Is that really a summon entrusted to Uzumaki Naruto by the Hokage, Captain?"

Kakashi smirked behind his mask, Yūgao never failing to disappoint him with how perceptive she could be. "That's classified, Neko. Just keep an eye out for them."

Yūgao nodded, cutting him a glance as the wind blew past them. "Are you really transferring?"

"Ah," Kakashi confirmed. "It's…something I need to do with my life."

"But what about us?" Yūgao beckoned after a long pause, bringing a fist to her chest. "Is what we have not good enough for you?"

Kakashi quietly hung his head. "You need to move on."

"Never!" Yūgao snapped, voice dripping with emotion. "You're…You're the best thing…that ever happened to me. I can only ever wake up knowing that you're there, facing everyday with a smile."

"You need to move on," Kakashi repeated with more conviction, panning his head away from her.

"I've given you everything! My heart, my soul, my body!"

"What we have is a sham! It always was. Do you think people would look at us and see a happy couple? Content? You're delirious."

"I'll hate you if you leave!" Yūgao swore. "I'll hate you so much, I'll die!"

"Then hate me!" Kakashi finally focused on her through his mask. "Hate me until there's nothing left to hate, so that you'll find another. Another man who can give you what's true. What's real!"

"And cut!" Yūgao pointed at him, then clapped her hands in a light applause. "That was good. Your best yet."

Kakashi drew out a green book from his flack jacket, showing the front cover to her. "An excerpt from the latest Icha Icha Paradise. Eiichiro breaks up with Miho, using his job transfer as a convenience, wishing to find himself in a cruel world that cannot accept their love, but it was always a sham. Deep down, he's still pining after the first woman he lost to his rival."

Yūgao crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't even know why I let you rope me into these dumb role-plays of yours."

"Don't tell me they don't make for good practice for Hayate," he teased her.

He could tell that she was rolling her eyes at him. Rather than follow with a quip of her own, she proceeded to take off her mask, revealing the face of a lovely woman with brown eyes, fair skin, and lips that were painted red. "Good luck, Captain."

Kakashi nodded, before vanishing in smoke, having said his goodbyes.

---

Later…

Naruto and Piyomon walked closely behind Bokomon on the dirt path of the business district, heading for a restaurant Anko had invited them to. The boy, dressed in a simple white shirt and black pants, ignored the usual glances being thrown his way. The news came as a surprise to the younger two, but not an unwelcome one, as it was the same place she had purportedly bought the steak and potatoes from.

Out of habit, he almost suggested that they go for ramen, but it was quashed before the words could leave his mouth. He didn't want to be anywhere near Ichiraku Ramen until they could manage to recover, and by then, he'll leave them for good with an apology. It would be the very least he could do. Hopefully, he'll get over his crippling addiction with time.

The very decision itself soon filled him with anguish. Why?! Why was he being forced to make such sacrifices?!

"Hey, Naruto!" A voice called out from the crowd. "Hey!"

"Hm?" Naruto placed the direction of the voice from his right, seeing a familiar face running up to him. "Hey, Choji."

"Where have you been, man?" the Akimichi heir asked with his trademark ever friendly smile. "Me and Shikamaru were waiting for you all day, and the day before that. Don't tell me you mean to quit."

"Huh? Oh! Uh…" He was briefly at a loss, momentarily forgetting their cover story from apprehension mixed with the guilt of having stood up the tutoring session, as unintentional it had been. He shared an idle glance with Bokomon. "I'm really sorry, but something important came up. Really important, and uh…a lot of other stuff happened that kept me preoccupied."

Choji blinked inquisitively. "Something important?"

Naruto bit his lip, nerve-wracked. Here goes. "Choji? M-Meet…my uncle."

It felt weird saying it out loud in front of a friend, in stark contrast to how it was a spur of the moment earlier with the landlord, unsure if he even articulated it properly, but from the way Choji looked widely taken aback with surprise, he must have.

"Eh? Yo…Your…uncle?" Choji's open mouthed gaze drifted down at whom Naruto was gesturing. A diminutive…man? The first thing that grabbed his notice was the chalk white skin, next to the stubby fingers - and walking barefoot? The stubble was unmistakable, though, but the beady eyes were hard to ignore. Then again, his father once told him that there were shinobi who did modifications to their bodies, or in the rare case, harbored birth defects. Never one to be rude, he bowed after collecting himself. "Oh, uh, a pleasure it is to meet you, sir. I am Akimichi Choji."

Bokomon returned the bow. "Likewise. I am Junichiro. Uzumaki Junichiro. Are you one of his friends?"

Choji nodded. "I am, but…uh, forgive me, but this is…actually the first I've heard of you." He then stammered at how he may have come off. "Ah! Not that I mean anything by it, sir."

"It's fine, I understand," 'Junichiro' waved. "As for the reason why I've been gone for so long, it was because I was working overseas, and last I heard anything from my family was over fifteen years ago. When the business I was working for went bankrupt, I moved back here to Konoha, and as soon as I arrived, I was put up to speed on Naruto's…circumstances. To make it up to him and honor his parents, I opted to become his legal guardian. We're actually going out for dinner tonight to celebrate the adoption becoming official and spend some quality time together, catching up."

Naruto's jaw dropped. Not at Bokomon's bogus story, but at how natural his delivery of it was. Hell, he of all people knew the truth, and he almost got drawn in.

Incidentally, had Bokomon taken care in choosing his words, he would have avoided such euphemisms as 'working overseas' and 'bankrupt business', the given context being along the lines of a deep cover mission, which Choji knew from lessons with his father. Underneath his polite conduct and smile, a small part of him couldn't help but be upset with the man for leaving Naruto on his own for what had to be his whole life, but his reservations on the matter clashed with the duty of a shinobi. For all he knew, the mission was of such gravity that he couldn't establish any sort of contact. He could relate, as only a year ago did he come to know of a clansman who undertook a particularly grueling mission that claimed over thirty years of his life. The entire clan held a feast for him that lasted for two whole days to commemorate his return.

"You're welcome to join us, if you want," Bokomon extended.

Choji perked up at the offer, but crisply deflated. "Thank you, sir, but I was just out on an errand. Dinner should be ready back home by now."

"You sure? It wouldn't be a problem, Choji," Naruto insisted, hands in his pockets, knowing how much his friend would love a good meal.

The Akimichi still gratefully refused. "Thanks, man, but I wouldn't want to impose. Your uncle just came back, after all, and I can't think of anything better than having dinner together as a family."

Family… Naruto thought to himself, bidding Choji a farewell when the latter started on his way. "I'll come by Shikamaru's tomorrow."

"I have chores to do, so I won't make it," Choji informed him, waving goodbye. "See 'ya."

Naruto watched him disappear into the crowd, sorting out the sensation of having someone by his side, even if they were effectively playing roles.

"Everything okay?" Bokomon asked him.

He remained still for a moment longer, eyes lingering in the direction Choji took. "You think…I should have just been honest with him?"

"That's your call to make," Bokomon opined. "Can we trust him?"

Could he? Could he indeed trust Choji with his secrets? "I think-hm?" He suddenly took note of something amiss. Or rather, missing. "Where's Piyomon?"

"Eh?" Bokomon blinked, only now realizing her distinct absence during their entire exchange with the corpulent boy.

---

With Choji…

Briskly trudging down the beaten path leading to his clan compound, Choji halted in his tracks when he was stricken with an immediate urge to punch; of all people, Naruto's uncle. He didn't think he was that miffed at the man, but it was short-lived, leaving him more than a little confused. With a dismissive shrug, he picked up his pace, his mother's cooking calling to him.

---

With Naruto and Bokomon…

The two frantically meandered about the streets, through the crowds and the nearby alleyways in search of the young avian Digimon.

"Where could she have gone off to?" Naruto voiced out in worry.

"We have to keep looking," the scholar implored. "She must be so confused and scared, she might-"

"There!" Naruto cut him off, pointing to a large building approximately five feet ahead of them; a distance they closed shortly, with the unmistakable sight of Piyomon sitting at a table by the window midway from the entrance. Peeking up, right above the noren was a sign that read.

"Yoshinoya?" Naruto spelled out.

"That's-" Bokomon began, only to be interrupted once more.

"About time you got here." Standing by the now opened doorway was Mitarashi Anko, still donned in the same clothes she wore earlier. "Come on in. Hope you boys are hungry, 'cuz we're gonna have ourselves a little shindig. My treat."

Naruto and Bokomon traded odd looks. "What's the occasion?"

"Eighty-six the modesty, Short Man, and get in here," Anko beckoned, filing them inside. "I owe you big."

From that, it was simple for Naruto to figure out that she was showing her gratitude for removing her Curse Mark. "What took you guys so long anyway?" she asked them as they made their way to their table where Piyomon was already seated, fumbling with Anko's headband that was shining under the light.

"Looking for Piyomon, of course. We lost track of her when one of Naruto's friends ran into us," Bokomon explained. "How did she end up here with you?"

"I found her standing in front of a shop displaying some jewelry," the kunoichi answered as she sat down next to Piyomon. "Already read her the riot act to never run off like that again. Ain't that right, Tweety?"

"Hm?" Piyomon briefly broke her gaze from the headband to the kunoichi. "Right," she nodded before resuming her ogling.

"Is that little obsession of hers gonna be a problem?" Anko wondered vocally, keenly observing the bird engrossed in the flashing metal being played between her claws.

"Most of her stronger instincts will die down eventually," Bokomon answered. He swept his sights all over the interior, with tables obliquely aligned in a row against the walls, a few aside from theirs still occupied, and a counter at the far end facing the entrance where a man was entertaining a paying customer. Behind him was the entryway to the kitchen, where he could pick up the sounds of cooking, the sizzling of oil intermingled with the clanging of a ladle against a wok. "So, this is the restaurant you told me about?"

"The one I bought all those steaks from, yeah," Anko confirmed, an arm cradling her head atop the table. She raised her free arm to wave at someone. "Hey, Oton!"

The man at the counter responded to the call, craning his neck in their direction, and flashed them a wide smile. He fished out a notepad from his pocket and exited the counter by lifting a wooden panel. Even from a distance, they could see that he was tall and well-built, wearing a white bandana on his head, a black shirt under a black apron that tightly hugged his muscled frame, and blue jeans that could barely hold his trunk-like legs.

Seated by the edge, Naruto found himself inching away from the man halfway in his approach, intimidated. He was no WereGarurumon, who was more beast than man, but Oton was in a league of his own by how massive he still was when compared to an average sized man. Bokomon, by his own estimate, could class such defined musculature as a tenable contender against a few Human Digimon, honestly amazed at the amount of hard work it must have taken to carve such a body. A discerning eye dispelled the use of steroids or anything remotely artificial. No, this was the result of pure methodical conditioning through years of rigorous and diligent care.

Looming over them, his casted shadow nearly blanketing their table, Oton plucked the pen wedged atop his right ear, giving it a twirl before hovering the tip over the notepad. Up close, he was clean-shaven, tufts of his black hair poking from under the bandana, and a handsome face that could have been chiseled out of marble.

"What's it gonna be this time, Mitarashi?" he asked, his voice not as deep as one would first imagine it to be, carrying a friendly undertone. The drop in formalities inferred to the newcomers that the two were close.

The kunoichi, giving him a sly look consisting of her signature smirk, imparted her order. "As much as we can stuff our faces with, and unlimited refills."

Oton didn't even bat an eye. "Who's gonna pay? You?"

Her sly smirk morphed into a full blown grin, revealing her pearly whites. "Put it on the Hokage's tab. Like last time."

Oton furrowed his brow at the woman's audacity. "Is the old man good for it?"

"Yeah," Anko shrugged with an infuriating confidence that reminded Oton who exactly it was he was talking to.

"Not really one for splittin' hairs, but you sure you're not steppin' on anybody's toes here?" Oton asked, his jotting down of the order belying his half-hearted concerns.

"Let's just say he owes me," Anko vaguely broached. "That's all you need to know."

"Didn't think the old buzzard still had some mojo left. Nice!" Oton teased, earning a soft kick to his shin.

"Mojo?" Naruto asked Bokomon under his breath.

"When you're older," the scholar replied, disappointing the lad.

"This your kid?" Oton asked, pointing his pen at Naruto, who spluttered from the assumption.

"Do I look like I have a kid?" the kunoichi grumbled.

"My mistake," Oton conceded, leering at her. "You don't have that 'mom bod' quite yet."

"You volunteering?" Anko mockingly flirted, leaning forward to lightly press her chest on the table. "I'm only easy on the eye, tiger. It's a whole different story in the sack."

"Pass," Oton snorted, though he couldn't help slipping a glance at her chest, which she relished. "Kie won't cook my favorite Gyūdon anymore if I did."

"You're damn right, I won't!" A woman called from the kitchen, who then poked out of the opening. Black short hair poured out of the white bandana she wore, sporting the same black shirt and blue jeans as Oton. Fully revealing herself, she was about Anko's height and build, but wiry where the kunoichi was curvaceous, and just as attractive, hands on her hips, and a scowl directed at her husband. "Finish taking their orders and get back here."

"Got it!" Oton acknowledged. He spared one last glance at them. "Beer, right Anko?"

"Yeah," she agreed, before turning to the others with her. "What about you guys?"

Bokomon had been sifting through the provided menu that had already been placed on the table. "The Protein Smoothies, please."

"Good choice," Oton commended. "A healthy drink for all ages. Blended bananas, walnuts and oats in soymilk. That happens to be our bestseller."

"Protein…smoothies?" Naruto questioned, first he ever heard of such a drink.

"Yep!" Oton confirmed with a hearty chirp. "That's what 'Yoshinoya' is all about. Good, healthy eats at affordable prices, our best patrons being shinobi. Steaks, salads, even specialized prep. meals that cater to one's specific diet. Carbs, proteins and fats. You name it, we got it."

"Roasted chicken breasts, salad with cooked chickpeas and hard-boiled eggs with the yolks taken out, and brown rice with sweet potatoes," Bokomon listed off some of the items, nodding in approval. "We'll have those."

Naruto leaned in to read. "Are they any good?"

"Still hung up on ramen, kid?" Anko guessed, and sighed sympathetically when the boy made a face. "I feel the same way for dango. I try to quit, I really do, but somehow, someway, I always come back. It's my drug, my curse. Oh, why must I suffer?" she trailed off faux dramatically.

"That's not helping," Naruto groused through gritted teeth, clenching a fist that he rested on the table.

"I know," she jeered. "But you're gonna have to quit those unhealthy habits if you're serious about improving."

"I-" Naruto stammered. "I am. It's…just hard. Ramen…ramen was the most food I've eaten since I was a kid. When I didn't have enough money, Teuchi-ossan and Ayame-neechan were always there to have a bowl for me, even if I couldn't pay. I…still remember the first time I came to their shop, I thought they were going to drive me away, but they didn't. Right as I was about to run off, Teuchi-ossan called me in. That was…the first bowl of ramen I ever had, and the best."

"Ramen's a great source of carbs and sodium, and depending on the toppings, protein and fat," Oton remarked, having listened in. "Don't tell me that's all you ate constantly?"

"Y-Yeah," Naruto confirmed. "It was all I could really afford."

"Well that's not true, since there's plenty of budget ingredients in the marketplace that can make for healthier alternatives."

"Oh, trust me, I know," Naruto grumbled knowingly. "I know."

"Is this really all you've got to show for, Uzumaki Naruto?" Oton asked, calling him by name. "After all the hype I've been hearing about you from Anko?"

"Eh?"

"Yeah, I know who you are, and of your 'reputation', but you got nothing to worry about here," Oton assured him. "Anko says you're a good kid, and I trust her. Besides, not all of us think what happened years ago was your fault."

Naruto was stunned by someone other than the people who supported him admitting such. "Yeah. Not all of you. Fat lot of good it did Teuchi-ossan."

"Don't tell me, ever since you became their number one customer, Ichiraku's been hurting in finances," Oton unraveled, exhaling through his nose. "These days, they can barely afford the rent even with the business you bring in. Not counting your tab."

Naruto stared at the man, reeling from him further, having been read like an open book. He averted his gaze to hang his head. "...Me being here might just hurt your business, too."

"No, you won't."

"Huh?" Naruto snapped up to look at him, askance. "What makes you so sure?"

Oton grinned, propping himself against the top of the backrest where the boy was seated. "I've made it so that my customer base simply can't afford to stiff this place. Haven't you checked?"

Following where his thumb was pointing, Naruto and Bokomon observed that the only other customers besides them were Jōnin and Chūnin, some sending glances back their way in varying degrees of apathetic to curious. "I provide my patrons what they need, not what they want. Most people go out to restaurants expecting to have a good meal, not caring much for how healthy it'll be or the impact on their bodies. That's the civvy mindset. Now, for shinobi, we actually have to pay attention to what we eat. Training is all well and good, but diet is just as vital, if not more. My sales pitch wasn't the least bit hyperbolic. How many other restaurants in Konoha are like mine? Care to count?"

"Uh, well…"

"There aren't any," Oton answered himself. "I don't know if you've heard, but ramen fell out of popularity years ago, and before you start thinking that that was your fault, too, it's not. People have become more health conscious, and needless to say, while it is a good source of carbs and other nutrients, it's still greasier, and employs spices and other condiments like MSGs that offset the benefits. That's why we shinobi tend to personally prep. our meals, or they go here, which is often considering how time-consuming missions can be."

He straightened, head raised and fist drawn. "It's always been a personal dream of mine to build the perfect body, as you can see," he gestured to his own results. "And now, I'm sharing that dream with anyone willing to push-"

"ARE YOU GONNA MAN THE GRILL OR NOT?!" Kie boomed directly into her husband's ear, reaching up on her tiptoes to pull at it. He seized up in agony as his eardrum rang like crazy, brain rattling inside his skull. She released her hold with a flick and a pout, before snapping her attention to the four that sweatdropped at what she did. Even Piyomon was abruptly snapped out of her trance.

"A pleasure to meet you," the woman bowed. "I'm Kie, Oton's wife and co-owner of Yoshinoya. Please excuse me for that, but sometimes, my muscle headed hubby here can get so worked up that he needs someone to pull him back down to earth. Right, honey?!"

Oton squirmed as he recoiled from his wife's wrath, his left cheek stinging from the pain of her pinching and pulling in a vice. "R-Right, whatever you shay, shweetie."

She bowed again, then turned to follow after her husband, kicking him harshly in the rear to hurry him along.

Watching them go, Naruto looked on at the pair in bewilderment. "Is…is this place really all that? I've never even heard of it 'till now."

"Yoshinoya is all about healthy eating," Anko pronounced. "Oton himself built it from the ground up to what it is today, with a clientele willing to pay a pretty penny for food that's not only good, but provides just what they need in terms of maintaining their bodies or gains. It wasn't easy, though. Healthy food commonly tastes like shit. Oton spent a good part of his career studying overseas - cooking, nutrition, medicine - whatever he could get his hands on to work out a blueprint for his goal. He then spent the intervening years applying what he learned on himself. Satisfied, he went into business, met Kie, got married, and bam, the rest is, as they say, history."

"So, how come I've never even heard of this place?" Naruto asked persistently.

"You passed by it a couple of times on your way to Ichiraku. Oton even caught sight of you every now and then," Anko refuted, causing the boy to fumble. "It was right in plain sight, but all you could think of in that 'ol noodle of yours was noodles."

Naruto's demeanor fell from failing to notice such things, eyes downcast. He felt a gentle pat on his shoulder from Anko, her tone lacking her usual bite. "Enough with the sads, Short Man. Don't want you rubbin' off on me. This is supposed to be my way of celebrating, and to thank you for…what you did," she wasn't about to mention it out loud, for the moment anyone caught wind of her Curse Mark becoming little more than a bad memory, eyebrows will be raised, and noses sticking into what isn't their business, "and hey, you guys are getting a free meal courtesy of our very generous Hokage."

---

Elsewhere…

"ACHOO!"

"Hm?" Shikaku looked up from the documents detailing the reports of their spy network stationed in Sunagakure dating back in the period of five years. "Hokage-sama?"

Hiruzen rubbed at his nose, sniffling. "Excuse me." He cleared his throat. "Now then, based on what we know, Sunagakure suffered economically some time after the Third War, with what was left of their budget going to the reparation efforts, which they would have recovered from in time. Had their Daimyō not outsourced missions and other services to us, depriving them of a large chunk of their income. According to these reports, their infrastructure has been in decline, the citizenry taxed to near poverty, and having to rely on mercenary work for clients they could scrape by on the side. Rasa has even resorted to selling off his gold dust just to make ends meet."

"No country in their right mind would buy such gold at full price, and neither did I think Rasa would ever get that desperate," Inoichi chimed in. When the Fourth Kazekage had been revealed to be capable of reproducing gold, it had caused quite a stir in the economic world. Countries the world over had sent envoys and emissaries to see if such claims held weight, and they did, for Rasa developed his technique after extensive study in the properties of gold in order to replicate the valuable metal. At first, this artificial gold was thought to be the answer to Suna's woes, but even Rasa himself knew such an idea was wishful thinking, and dangerous. Sunagakure held large stockpiles of this gold in store from all the instances where he would utilize it to contain the Ichibi's rampages.

It didn't take long for the other villages to express fears that Sunagakure would use such gold to sabotage their own economies. Gold was naturally finite, which was where its overall value stemmed from, and when tests were conducted on whether Rasa's gold dust could be compared to the natural variant, results proved indistinguishable. This only added pressure to the Kazekage to refrain from using his technique, which was doable as his Jiton (Magnet Release) would simply make use of what was already there. The desert village was in such an unenviable position that the very last thing they needed was a war on all fronts. Hiruzen remembered that meeting well when a Summit was called to wrestle on the matter, still feeling Rasa's hate-filled gaze burning into his back afterwards upon departure.

"Get a load of this," Inoichi added. "He's also been approached by electronic and software companies. Backdoor dealings, no doubt."

Shikaku hummed. "Makes sense. Gold is a fine conductor, and in its purest, doesn't corrode or rust like other metals, which makes it ideal in transistors, but the value is still peanuts compared to what natural gold can normally fetch. Getting it for cheap. If this was made public, it would prove scandalous for all parties involved."

Hiruzen stayed silent during the exchange, his knowledge on technology limited. "They also hold the monopoly in medicinal herbs that can only thrive in desert conditions, which is a quarter of their annual income."

Digging deeper into the reports, the three of them discovered to their shock that the Wind Daimyō actually squashed a third of Suna's budget, as opposed to the assumption of it being previously half. The poignant irony was, the decision came as a consequence of Rasa's gold. "This just keeps getting better and better," Shikaku bemoaned, massaging his forehead, for it was Danzo who negotiated and convinced the man in the first place, a few years after the Third War.

Hiruzen shook his head in disapproval and annoyance at his old friend's antics, which was likely intentional for this very scenario they were now facing, one way or another. He was nonetheless impressed that the man had planned this far ahead. There wasn't a shred of doubt that the true aim of the invasion was his death, weakening Konoha simply being a bonus.

Perish in a duel with his former student, and in the off chance that he would be left victorious but exhausted, assassination via a third party. If the outcome happened to be mutual, Konoha would be rid of one threat by its most notorious nukenin, freeing him from the possibility of blackmail, cleaning up loose ends if there were any. Shimura would benefit regardless of the outcome, left with the opportunity to step in at the village's time of need. Alive or dead, Hiruzen would simply be in no condition to maintain his seat. Those already aware of Shimura's character would suspect that he held some part in the invasion, but without solid proof, such accusations would fall short.

Its simplicity was the beauty of it all, and Hiruzen didn't even bother to suppress a chuckle as he worked it out in his mind.

"It's all going according to his plan," Shikaku continued. "Orochimaru knows he's being played, but is going along with it since their goals still heavily align. To gain Suna's trust, he could have only provided them with funding, supplies, and manpower. The snake even took the liberty of rooting out our spy network." The Jōnin Captain tossed a document into a pile consisting of fake reports that it was business as usual in Suna, as opposed to the last genuine one that made it to them over 8 months ago hinting at military drills, which could be for any number of reasons without context and provocation.

"Any ideas?" Inoichi beat back a yawn, his sleep hours still scanty.

Hiruzen's next words were spoken without a beat. "Prep. the evacuation shelters. The civilians will be our top priority."

Shikaku and Inoichi nodded, the former speaking up. "Should we take further measures?"

"Proceed with our usual drills, we cannot arouse even an inkling of suspicion in the risk of Orochimaru realizing that we are on to him," Hiruzen answered. "The very instant he catches wind of our awareness, our chances will diminish significantly."

"Orochimaru himself won't be taking any chances," Inoichi added. "Out of everyone in Konoha, he would be wary of you the most, Hokage-sama." Hiruzen lowered his head in agreement. "Given his objective, I don't suppose we can convince you to sit it out and hole up in a bunker?"

"No," Hiruzen confirmed with a genial smile. "I will not leave the defense of our home solely to your generation. This old relic still has some fight in him left. I would not be able to face Hashirama-sama or Tobirama-sama in the next world if I was to turn my back on this." He stood up from his seat, leaning on both hands spread on the table. "Gentlemen. Konohagakure is about to face the most grueling months leading up to the Chūnin Exam, the projected day of the invasion. Not only will the other villages be sending in their candidates, but spies as well. A crucial blow will be dealt to us, providing a window of opportunity for our enemies and allies alike to capitalize on. On top of that, we are facing an adversary with intimate knowledge of our battle tactics and logistics. Every move we make will not only be anticipated, but intercepted."

"Then, all we can do is let things be?" Shikaku intoned under his breath, fingers steepled.

Hiruzen chewed on it. "We must consult with Seiko."

The two other men immediately caught what their superior was intending. "Hokage-sama…" Shikaku began with a subdued quiver in his voice.

Inoichi was snapped out of his lethargy, erupting out of his seat. "You can't be meaning to-"

"Project Hades was, by all merits, a failure," Hiruzen cut the man off, assuaging them of their assumptions. "We cannot see a repeat of the desperate sacrifices made in the war. That is a burden that I will carry to my last breath. Yet, Seiko may hold the key to our salvation."

"All of his father's original notes were destroyed. Seiko himself saw to it," Shikaku stated. "We made sure no evidence of Project Hades was to ever see the light of day."

Inoichi fell back on his seat. "Many good men were lost to Hades, and out of the twenty Kintoki started with, only five were deemed "successes". Because of the experiments done to them, their lifespans were cut short to a few months after the end of the war. For those who made it, at least."

"Kintoki aptly deemed the fruits of his labor as Choujin," Hiruzen declared. "Supermen who could fell dozens of enemy combatants like nothing. Their senses and physicality sharpened and heightened to their very limits, their emotions suppressed, becoming cold-blooded, cold-hearted, and could follow orders unquestionably. The perfect soldiers. Instrumental in the final days of the war, we had them pose as hired mercenaries with no affiliation to Konoha, spread out to key points to clean up any remaining enemy forces."

Inoichi and Shikaku felt chills climbing up their spines, having personally witnessed a single one of these "Choujin" massacre an entire contingent before succumbing to wounds accumulated. The entire time, the man held nothing but a cold and indifferent mien. Not even a grimace to show for the punishment he endured.

An inhuman killing machine.

"And you think Seiko will succeed where his father failed?" Inoichi wondered warily.

"Even at such a young age, Seiko was his father's assistant, a prodigy in medical science that rivaled Tsunade, overseeing the training and development of their charges. He is the only one left of the original research team who would have firsthand knowledge," Hiruzen answered. "Hopefully, we can gain much from his insight."

"But will he cooperate?" Shikaku asked carefully.

Hiruzen thought back to when he and Seiko last spoke.

---

15 years ago…

Hiruzen walked down a dim corridor, sweeping his gaze across every room he passed by of the soon-to-be abandoned facility, no trace to be left of the hell that was wrought within these very walls for Konoha's glory. The war was over, and it was time to do away with what wasn't necessary in the coming peace.

His ear twitched when he caught a light noise up ahead, becoming curious and on guard.

As he traipsed closer to the source, a familiar grunt betrayed who it was, and sure enough, peering into the room, he found a young man dressed in a white scrub, back facing him as he was bunching files and folders into a box, with a stack of other boxes next to him full of documents, instruments and leftover material.

"Whatever it is you need to do, go ahead," the young man, doggedly absorbed in his task, intoned.

Hiruzen, hands behind his back, watched him. "Kintoki?"

"Dead," the boy, 15, answered dully, kneeling down to tape the box shut. Hiruzen didn't need to be told how.

The young man sensed that the Hokage didn't react, and sighed. "When we first started, we gave them every chance, every opportunity available to back out. They wouldn't, for they so loved the village that their lives meant little if it meant ending the war. But, we could tell some of them had more than a few second thoughts."

He glanced over his shoulder to find the man standing over him, hands still behind his back, stare cryptic. "Overtime, we made it so that they couldn't back out." He rose up, rounding to fully meet the man's eyes, standing at an inch higher were it not for the conic hat. The eerie silence engulfed the two of them as though one was waiting for the other to make their move, but all Hiruzen could do was bow his head in a wordless condolence.

"Hokage-sama," Seiko began again. "My father died happy."

This caught Hiruzen's attention, looking up. "He died after fulfilling his dream."

"Which is?"

"Let me answer you with a question, sir," Seiko said. "Do you know of the name "Hercules"?"

"That mythological figure from the Northwestern Continents?" He had heard tales and myths from foreign countries as a passing interest in his youth, if only to see how they differed to their own.

"My father once heard of the name from a foreigner when he was studying medicine overseas," Seiko said as he stood back up, relaxed to Hiruzen's curiosity. Not once did the young man before him break composure. No spike in his breathing, perspiration or heartbeat, but he could tell that the boy was fearful for his own life. It was…strange. Kintoki was the same. Seiko wasn't one to betray much emotion, at times looking more bored or disinterested. During their experiments, he was nothing but dutifully professional, and what made it unnerving was how he never seemed flustered or shaken, when a number of the other researchers would balk at their more…graphic procedures.

"He had me with him. Good cover for gathering intelligence as a single parent studying to be a doctor." He bent down to pick up the box, Hiruzen making some room for him by shuffling to the side. "He passed on what knowledge he had to me as soon as I could learn to read. Can you believe he started me off with his journals?"

Hiruzen couldn't withhold a smile.

"Hokage-sama?" The man watched as Seiko lifted one of the heavier boxes above his head. "How strong do you think an average person can get?"

"I'm afraid I'm not quite the right person," Hiruzen replied. "Many shinobi in my own lifetime alone have performed extraordinary feats of strength that quantifying even a single one would prove tedious."

"I'm talking about without chakra or any special techniques."

The lines of Hiruzen's forehead creased as he fixed Seiko a quizzical look. "How much can we carry? How strong can we punch? Kick? Press? Throw? Hercules, in his legend, was said to be capable of feats of strength that bordered on the impossible. He was said to be a demigod so strong he could even cradle the entire planet on his shoulders if he wanted to."

He lowered the box to relax his arms. "How could humans…have ever thought such things? Mere conjecture? Fantasy? An overactive imagination can devise some interesting possibilities."

"It sounds fantastical, more like," Hiruzen indulged him. "I take it this dream Kintoki fostered involves pursuing the limits of strength?"

"Overcoming those limits, actually. The human body is, by all retrospect, fragile. Nature imposed on us limitations, caveats lest we risk crippling injuries or death. They can be overcome, but the question is, to what extent. Lofty it may seem, he was inspired to find out, and when the war began, he tossed in his proposal." He placed the box atop the others. "Doubtful, you refused at first, but eventually, you threw your lot in with him."

He cut the Hokage a look. "What changed your mind?"

"One can only endure carnage for so long," Hiruzen conveyed. "Day by day, we lost men and women who swore their lives to the village, depriving their country of their beauty, their intelligence and their strength. We needed a final solution, and we gambled on your father's research."

He turned away, sauntering up to a desk that had a lone piece of paper scribbled with some chicken scratch. He scooped it up and flipped it over.

"Yet, there are no true winners in war," Hiruzen lamented.

"The brass would disagree."

"Let them," Hiruzen said dismissively. He could do it now and be done with it. "Do you regret the outcome of your father's work?"

Seiko shrugged. "Not really."

Hiruzen glanced at him over his shoulder, his hat shading his eyes. "None at all?"

Seiko shifted his gaze to the side. "If there is one, it's only that the project didn't yield the results we would have preferred."

It should have been smoothly done, ready to strike the boy down, but a single thought held him in place.

Hypocrite…

Seiko felt the killing intent hovering over him wane. The boy cocked Hiruzen with a brow, more curious than surprised. "Would you do it again?"

"No," Seiko answered with a shrug of his shoulders after a pause. "What my father and I ended up with was nowhere close to what he wanted. Thus, the christening of 'Project Hades', after the deity of the underworld from the same myths as Hercules. While it did produce results, they proved unsatisfactory. In the end, all he could do was leave me behind to keep the dream going."

Hearing this, and following his intuition, Hiruzen realized Seiko would prove far more useful to Konoha than another notch on a war memorial.

"Please do," Hiruzen declared after a long silence. "He would have wanted you to."

A few days later, after getting his affairs in order, Seiko departed from Konoha.

---

Present…

"It's settled then," Shikaku amended. "Seiko will foresee the training of our soldiers."

"Not quite," Hiruzen rebutted. "For he will be directly overseeing to Uzumaki Naruto."

Caught unawares, Shikaku's brows shot up. "Naruto's…?"

"We should only be needing his counsel, then," Inoichi surmised. "We can handle the grunt work, while Seiko is prepping our Jinchūriki." With a nod of approval, he threw an expectant look at Shikaku for his say.

The Jōnin Captain thought the matter over, the back of his hand cradling his chin, and it made sense. In the off chance that things went south, Naruto would be the deciding factor by nature of being their trump card, and provided Sunagakure's Jinchūriki was not similarly primed, then their odds were looking less bleak by the minute. They were about the same age if the reports were to be believed.

"A year," Shikaku declared in anticipation. He nodded to Inoichi, acqueasing their fate to variables aberrant. Nobody ever pulled victory from the jaws of defeat without getting torn into. Better than the entire arm getting severed off completely. "Yet, there is the matter of his young age and relative inexperience, apart from," he coughed into his hand, "where he places psychologically and emotionally."

Hiruzen shifted in his seat as the two men were inspecting him, scrutiny behind their gazes. He coughed. "That is being addressed as well, Shikaku. Which brings us to another vital issue that you will be made privy to courtesy of Inoichi."

Shikaku arched a curious brow, then pivoted a glance at his old friend and teammate, who only bore a knowing look. Only truly classified info is ever shared telepathically.

Hiruzen and Inoichi shared nods, before the former bent down to procure a bottle of sake from under the table, not caring for its quality, only that it had a strong enough kick. "You're going to be needing this."

Shikaku raised a hand in refusal. "My wife's been talking my ears off to quit. Just give it to me straight, Inoichi. I can take it."

Moments later, Shikaku couldn't grab the bottle hastily enough to down it like mad.

---

At Yoshinoya…

"This is great!" Naruto exclaimed, digging into his Satsumaimo Gohan, mixing in some of his roasted chicken. "I can't believe I missed out on this!" Bokomon and Piyomon; who had lost interest in the headband, were similarly enjoying their meals.

Anko heartily chugged her beer, reveling in her newfound freedom, which made the taste all the sweeter. "Aaaaah!" she heaved out satisfyingly, wiping away some of the foam that stuck to her lips. "That's the stuff!"

She picked into her buttered salmon, shooting a smug grin at Naruto after lodging the piece of fish into her mouth. "You haven't lived until you tried the beer here, kid. Nothing like a little fire in your belly."

"Thanks," Naruto declined, lifting his smoothie to take a swig from the straw, "but I'm down for this. Never tasted anything like it."

Bokomon swallowed his food to add, "Healthy for a growing boy, too."

"What about you, Doughboy?" Anko leaned on the table, brandishing her beer glass in his direction.

"I have a very particular palette when it comes to alcohol," Bokomon revealed, declining as well. "Nothing else touches these lips other than Karpos Hulē fruit wine."

"Oooh, do tell," Anko buzzed with interest, her words carrying a slight slur, cheeks flush with a rush of pink.

Bokomon subtly glanced over his shoulder, flaring out his senses. The kunoichi got the message, any talk of the Digital World needing to be on the down low. "That a local swill where you used to live?"

"A personal brew by a business acquaintance," Bokomon alluded, before taking a swig of his smoothie. "Piyomon, what did I tell you?"

Startled out of trying to shovel her meal into her beak after foregoing the utensils in frustration, the avian meekly placed her bowl of rice down. "Sorry, Boko-chan."

Anko was more lenient. "Aw, just let her be. She'll get the hang of it eventually."

"Which is why I'm getting her to start as soon as possible," Bokomon retorted. "She'll never learn if she doesn't try."

Piyomon carefully picked up her spoon, the wrong way facing her, only to be helped by a still not as tipsy Anko to hold it the right way. Chopsticks were still above her coordination, and because of her hard claws, grasping the utensil was proving to be enough of a herculean task without deforming the strip of metal because of her natural strength. One was lying bent out of shape at the center of the table.

"Now, scoop up just a little rice," Bokomon guided. "That's it. That's good. Now, bring it up to your beak slowly."

Piyomon did as instructed, going through the motions with as careful precision as she was capable of, but her grip was noticeably trembling. She fumbled the attempt when the tip of the spoon collided with the bottom of her beak, spilling the rice onto the table.

Her head and shoulders fell in disappointment. "I can't do it."

"Sure you can, Piyomon," Naruto consoled her encouragingly. "Just keep trying."

"But I can't," she bemoaned. "I kept trying, but I just messed it up."

"You're just gonna give up, then?" Naruto clenched his hand into a fist. "Didn't we promise that we'd get stronger together?"

Piyomon nodded weakly. "Y-Yeah."

"With that kind of attitude, you won't," Naruto told her. "You won't be able to keep our promise if you can't even do a little thing like using a spoon."

"W-Well…" Piyomon shifted uncomfortably, twiddling her claws.

"When I was a kid, I had to learn too, and like you, I messed it up. A lot." He beamed at her. "But, I never stopped trying, now look what I can do." He brandished his chopsticks with dexterous skill. "This is gonna be what we have to do to get strong. Try and try, and keep trying some more until we can do it. Don't give up even if you mess it up a hundred times. Messing up should push you to keep going no matter what. You can do it, Piyomon."

"Naru-chan…" Piyomon muttered, touched, her eyes gleaming with emotion. She then collected herself, determination replacing her doubts. She once again picked up her spoon, making sure it was positioned correctly after some adjusting.

"Look at me and do as I do, Piyomon," Bokomon amended. With his own chopsticks, that he held without difficulty with his stubby claws, he ran her through the motions once more, giving her pointers until she was moving the spoon up and down satisfyingly enough. "Very good. Now, finish your meal. Wait! Without the spoon this time."

"Huh?" Both Naruto and Piyomon sounded, taken aback.

Bokomon smiled warmly. "Baby steps. Of course Piyomon can't use a spoon that good yet, and she might end up spilling more of her food. She just needs to keep practicing until she can do it on her own."

"So, I can still eat?" Piyomon asked eagerly.

"Of course you can," Bokomon answered warmly. "But, you still need to practice everyday. Do you promise?"

"Promise!" she nodded, before proceeding to pick up her bowl to again dig in with her beak.

Anko took another swig of beer, before finishing what was left of her salmon. She always left the rice for last. "Hey, kid."

Hearing the call, Naruto responded after packing his mouth full of salad. "Yeah?"

A cryptic grin tugging at her lips, she spoke, "We're all gonna be staying after closing time. I didn't have you guys come here just for chow."

"What?"

"Just finish up," Anko deferred with a wink. "Trust me."

Not that Naruto didn't, so he shrugged and dove back into his salad.

As the hours went by, the restaurant closed at 10:00 of the evening, with the four staying long after they everyone else had left. Piyomon's fixation on anything shiny had, oddly enough, petered out as she and the others listened to some of Anko's stories about her line of work. While she was coherent enough to leave out classified info, the alcohol had loosened her tongue enough. Case in point, she regaled them with riveting tales such as how painful inserting a needle is directly into one's fingernail. Now, add some live wire into the mix.

"Moron was crying like a bitch for hours," she recounted with a snort. "Oh, he spilled the beans, but damn, you should have seen the guy. Bawling his eyes out."

Naruto, more than a little unsettled as he was perplexed, asked, "Uh, you didn't actually go through with it, did you?"

Anko clicked her tongue, looking more than a little offended. "What do you take me for, Short Man?"

Naruto inwardly felt relieved.

"Not even four fingers in, he broke."

That same relief sank to the floor.

"That's what we do, kid. That's what the department is all about. Torture and Interrogation. Shinobi are trained to be able to work under pressure, but everyone's got a threshold. You push the right buttons, you crush a couple of appendages, and boom, you start to hear all kinds of neat little secrets."

"Torture doesn't work," Bokomon piped up. "At least, not always, and not in the way commonly believed. You pressure someone enough, they impulsively say anything to make it stop."

Naruto gulped, unnerved at how casually Bokomon made his remarks.

"True, true," Anko acceded. "That's why we have shinobi who specialize in mind reading techniques. We run the poor bastards through the meat grinder first before diving deep to see if they're on the level. If not, we move on to more…drastic methods. They usually choke before reaching that point. Usually."

"Do you employ starvation?"

"Basic shit," Anko scoffed.

"Should…should you, uh, really be telling us this?" Naruto broached shakily.

Anko reached out to ruffle his hair. "Oh, Short Man. What have they been teaching you in that daycare?"

Over the years after what passed off as peace reigned over the previously war torn countries, the curriculum in the Academy had gradually omitted topics that would be deferred to their Jōnin Sensei. Back then, other than the basics that a wet-behind-the-ears flunky should know, they also had to be briefed on the branches of government like T and I in their second year. Now, it could just be that the young Uzumaki's less than stellar work ethic left much to be desired in his education, but it was a 50/50 deal. The instructors still shared the responsibility for what she wagered was passive acts of neglect and subterfuge.

Realistically, and with a touch of irony, had they gone out of their way in outright singling out the boy for sabotage, the Hokage still would have caught wind of it due to regularly reviewing his performance report. It wouldn't do for their greatest weapon to be left too lacking in his education. Having average marks that qualified him for the unwritten designation of 'Dead Last' must have been adequate to the old bag to bank on.

Had some poor schmuck dared to bring up expulsion or had the stones to outright kick him out of the program, heads would have been sent rolling.

The truth of the matter was that Naruto wasn't allowed to fail. One way or another, he had to be of some combat capacity to fulfill his obligation. In the possibility of him being stonewalled that he could no longer legally afford a do-over, he would have been apprenticed to a Chūnin to start over from the ground up for two years until making Genin.

"You're gonna be hearing talks like this on and off the field, kid. Best for you to get used to it."

Naruto pursed his lips. "Okay."

"Hope you guys got room for more!" Oton announced as he marched right up to their table, carrying a wide slab of wood topped with a large mound of meat sliced into strips. "Bear Sashimi, lightly seasoned with salt and pepper. Buddy of mine hooked me up."

"Whoa!" Piyomon and Naruto marveled, mouths watering. Bokomon silently approved as the meat had to have been prepared well to clear it of parasites. Game meat such as bears had a higher protein to fat ratio, and on the right season, tasted excellent.

Anko vigorously rubbed her hands together, as this was the best part of being a patron in Yoshinoya. Konoha had a camp of hunters that regularly provided the village with game, and while deer, duck and rabbit were arguably more common, the population boom of bears had given rise to the risk of local safety, issuing campaigns to quell their numbers. It was a chore for kunai and shuriken to even penetrate the thick, musclely hide, which made crossbows using heavy steel bolts better suited.

No concerns of overhunting for a good while, and bear meat was cheaper than beef and pork. A number of shinobi actually preferred it due to the high iron and protein content, not that it was popular, which Oton took advantage of to get a surplus on stock.

Naruto would be lying if he ever said that he tried bear meat. Before, he would have shied away from the prospect, but as his gaze stayed glued to the dish in curiosity mingled with his returning appetite, any prior aversion was wavering. With a gulp, he picked up his chopsticks and plucked out a strip, staring at it for a moment in hesitation. Dark red, making it indistinguishable from beef.

He glanced up at Oton, who was watching him with an expectant smile in tandem with Anko, hands on his hips, as if they were setting him up for a joke. Lips stretching into an awkward smile, Naruto gathered his wits and closed his eyes, zippily slipping the morsel into his mouth. His body went rigid as he chewed, and slack the more the taste spread throughout his tongue. Gamey, but had a distinct sweetness to it, far sweeter than any other meat he had.

"Delicious!"

Seeing this, Piyomon peeled off a strip and chomped down on it with her beak. The meat was chewy, and oddly enough, she found it more appetizing than the kind she's had up to that point.

"Yummy!"

"I agree," Bokomon concurred, having bitten into one to taste. He heard a tap against the table, seeing a saucer filled with sauce placed in the middle. Appreciative, he finished his first strip before fishing out a fresh one to dip. "Goes really well with this sauce."

After nothing of the meat was left, Oton wasted no time. "Did the Hokage put you up to this?"

Anko couldn't put it off, sighing. Bokomon figured it out not long after he got a good feel of the restaurant, leaving Naruto and Piyomon naturally confused.

The blonde glimpsed up at Oton, who, to his astonishment, had a complete shift in his demeanor. Rather than the cordial and amiable man from earlier, the one standing before them now could best be described as being cold as steel and sharp as a blade; no, sharper, eyes gleaming with an intensity that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The sensation could only be akin to staring down a beast methodically stalking prey, ready to pounce at an opportune moment.

Gone was the smile, replaced by pure stoicism. "Uzumaki Naruto," Oton started, his voice having taken on a deeper substance. "Hold out your arm."

Naruto swallowed down a lump that hitched up his throat. He threw a glance at Anko, who only nodded without a word. As he did so, a chill washed over him as he watched the man's large hand grip nearly his entire forearm firmly, coarse callouses flush against his skin.

For a moment, all were silent as Oton seemed to be examining the boy. "He's got the stuff."

"Uh, what…stuff?" Naruto asked meekly.

"To become strong."

For the rest of the night, Anko proceeded to the explain to the blonde what the Hokage had planned for him.

"Special training?" Naruto said in near disbelief.

"To toughen you up, kid. Oton here is a Tokubetsu Jōnin who works as an instructor in the Department," Anko continued. "He teaches us everything we need to know on how to best do our job. Human anatomy, pressure points. Everything I know and then some can be owed to him."

"You're…gonna teach me how to torture people?" he squealed, stomach dropping.

"If you want," Oton suggested curtly.

"Yeah, but no," the kunoichi dissuaded, drawing a relieved sigh from the student. "Oton is also a specialist in physical fitness, medicine, nutrition and martial arts. He owns and runs a clinic on the side, and to my knowledge, a private gym."

"With membership," Oton chimed in as he passed Naruto a flyer.

It was a picture of an outline shaped like a muscular man's upper body, flexing his muscles. At the bottom, stylized characters were written.

Spike Gym.

"But I thought Bo-" Bokomon lightly nudged Naruto, disguising it as leaning in to read the flyer. "Ojisan was going to be in charge of my training."

"No reason for it to not be a joint endeavor." The scholar turned uncle rubbed his chin in thought. "You wouldn't happen to have a rough draft of your plan, would you?"

"Of course," Oton replied as he presented him with a sheet of paper after unfolding it from his pocket.

"Thank you," Bokomon accepted. He skimmed over the document. "Hm, everything seems to be in order. I can only suggest a few changes here and there with your permission, but other than that, pretty solid."

"Thank you," Oton said in return for having the document handed back to him. "So, what is your answer, Uzumaki Naruto?"

"Well…"

"All expenses will be paid by the government (the Hokage)."

"Okay!"

Minutes earlier…

Oton was standing over the body of a man lying face down, foot jammed squarely in the base of the latter's spine.

"You're making a big mistake here-ARGH!" A faint cracking of bones shot across the roof, the restaurant owner having increased the application of force. Obscured by the shadows of the village lights, the man he was pinning down had a large bruise on his chest in an imprint of Seiko's hand, the front and back portion of his red shirt in tatters.

"We do not take kindly to trespassers," Oton said coldly.

The beaten up man didn't say a word back, only hissing and grunting in pain.

"Stop that. Once upon a time your reactions were genuine. Now, it's just a cheap performance."

The man assumed his composure, although it was proving more difficult for each passing second with the back of his neck fractured from the elbow strike used to land him flat on his chest, his breathing shallow from his diaphragm contracting erratically, with only his training enabling him to endure, sweating from the immense pain his body was in. "I wasn't lying. You're making a mistake, Miyazawa Seiko. You're not the target this time."

"If I kill you, Danzo wouldn't care one bit," Oton, or Seiko, proffered assuredly. "You're expendable. Like all the others."

"Still, you assume wrong," the Root agent in plainclothes protested. "The person of interest is Uzumaki Naruto and the peculiar individuals accompanying him." The man saw no point in keeping his mission a secret, knowing that Seiko knew and was about to kill him.

"Oh, so you're moving on to assaulting our paying customers now?"

Damn it. I can't mold chakra. "That's not-" the Root agent shook his head. "It doesn't…matter. We-"

"Your associates have been taken care of. You're the only one left," Seiko interrupted, before cleanly embedding his fist into the man's back, the released force rupturing internal organs.

Righting himself up, Oton inspected his handiwork before stepping off of the cadaver.

He looked up at the sky, seeing the majority of the stars hidden. An ANBU shortly arrived, appearing behind him.

Neko, who had witnessed yet another brief scuffle for the day, stood over the dead Root shinobi. "You think they'd learn."

"It's to be expected."

"How much does this make?"

"27."

Neko crouched down and took out a sealing scroll to store the corpse in. "Leave this to me."

"Thank you." Seiko walked to the door to exit the roof. "I still need to man the grill."

---

Later…

Naruto fell back on his bed, beaming as he released a satisfied breath, refreshed from the warm bath of his newly clean bathroom. Bokomon was at the far end of the bedroom, drying out Piyomon's damp feathers with a towel before she was to ever lie down on her newly bought futon. After agreeing to meet with Oton first thing in the morning, they stopped by a shop on their way home.

Naruto at first was hesitant, used to how he would be met by the shopkeepers, but to his confusion and amazement, the man managing the shop wasn't reacting to his presence in the usual manner. He was nothing but professional, even suggesting a few good ones that were on sale. To the young Uzumaki, it was bizarre, and left him reeling like he had stumbled into someplace alien.

After purchasing two with some of the money from his inheritance, he even sent them off with the mandatory spiel for their continued patronage.

Dressed in his cap and pajamas, Naruto thought back to the day he had, and how things had taken such a turn. He soon smacked his cheeks to rid himself of such gloom.

"What time are we supposed to meet with Miyazawa-san at his gym again?"

"5:00 am," Bokomon answered. "How do you feel about that?"

"Excited!" Naruto cheered, then paused at how that came out.

Bokomon chuckled. "I mean if being that early is good for you."

"Eh?" Naruto blinked. "Oh, sure."

"There, you should be dry enough, Piyomon." Bokomon told her. Hanging up the towel on a hook by the door, he pointed her to a futon next to the bed.

Naruto still couldn't believe that this was real. After the light went out and all three were lying on their respective cots, the boy crossed his arms behind his head. "Hey, Bokomon."

"Yeah?"

"You asleep yet?"

"No, why?"

"Things are…really going to be different now, aren't they?"

"Getting cold feet?"

If Naruto was being honest, he was reverberating with adrenaline at what tomorrow might bring. "Nope!"

"That's good," Bokomon smiled in the same vein as the boy. "You're gonna be needing that attitude going by what I gleaned from Miyazawa-san's workout plan for you. How long do we have until your evaluation?"

"Uh, I think a month and a half, give or take?"

"Plenty of time," Bokomon said confidently. "Just be sure to wake up tomorrow on the dot." He yawned, turning over on his futon. "Good night."

"Good night," Naruto said. He slid over to the side and propped himself up on one elbow to sneak a peek at Piyomon, who he had sensed was already fast asleep. Smiling to himself, he laid back down to stare at the ceiling, then a glance at the moon. A stark contrast to how it was days ago.

I'm really…not alone anymore.

Whatever tomorrow might bring, he'll face it head on.

---

Author's Notes: I decided to cut the page here after I rearranged the order of the chapters to better make the flow of the story more consistent.