Note: This is a remake. The MC believes in a God but he doesn't know which one is right. He only worships the same God that the Abrahamic tradition believes in.

My idea for this story was not a story of blind belief and fanaticism; it was merely for the MC to learn that faith without reason is destructive. It was just me trying to entertain the idea of how we make religion coexist with the modern world.

I have to make this note because I know there's going to be an edgy atheist commenting stupid stuff thinking they're smart and bringing their superiority complex or something. I respect your opinion, but this fic will heavily discuss the topic of faith and its correlation with humanity. And how could you make traditions and modernity be at peace? For example, gays and Christians.

So expect character development from the MC. He's going to be insufferable and holier than thou in the first few chapters.

Remember, faith without reason is no true faith.

Side note for the note: yes, I am religious.

Well then, Peace be upon you.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Prophesied Child

A gasping bloodied woman, holding dearly to the man she loves. A gaping hole the size of giants pierced both of them. The woman cried calling the man's name wanting him to open his cerulean blue eyes; the same eyes that always told her that everything would be alright and he would always be by her side. The same eyes that always gave her the love she needed; the gaze she loves.

The full moon was the only thing that lit up the night sky. Sounds of distant shouting of men and women were all put aside by the woman, to her, nothing compared to this. " Minato," the woman muttered, holding her anguish, tears running down her round cheek and dripping onto her husband's yellow hair. She hugged her husband's lifeless body tighter, pressing her cheeks with his.

She'd known that the price for the jutsu his husband had done to seal the Kyuubi was the life of the caster; it had been written in the ancient text of the Uzumaki. She knows and has lost count of how many times she has read them, yet when faced with the consequences, she will never be ready. No one is.

"Naruto," a dying word from her husband made Kushina gasp. His mouth was blackened with drying blood and the blue eye once filled with life, now struggling to open.

"He's fine, Minato," She gave him one final smile to assure him and then eyed her son, "Our baby boy is alright," Minato followed Kushina's gaze to see that his son, his blood, his heir was now fast asleep. Minato made a weak smile, grateful to the one above that his son would not bear witness to the death of his parents; that is something Minato would not want his son to see. And also grateful that he could see for one final time the adorable face he has.

"He has your face," Minato commented, breaking the ice.

"...and your hair and eye," Kushina replied, "That is so unfair, y'know. I want him to have red hair like me. That's my son; he at least should've also gotten my red hair," she said with a weak smile.

"Don't be greedy; that's also my son," Minato was silent for a second. "That's our son." He called the baby with such an endearing voice and untold love.

"And now we have to leave him after we just met, we have to leave our boy in this world without a mother to cry upon and a father to protect him. We're horrible parents Minato. I'm horri…"

Kushina's words were cut short as Minato wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"Don't cry, I hate it when you cry."

"What should I do then?" Her family separated from each other the day her son was born! The man she loved, the man she trusted, and her Kage now dying in her arms with her soon to follow. What should she do? Except cry and lament for what has been taken from her. The future she had dreamed of since she was a child; the love that she finally has, ripped apart from her loving embrace. And worst of all is the thought of leaving his son alone in this world…

"Pray," Minato said with finality. "Pray that our son; the child of prophecy, will be blessed. Pray for him. Pray for his safety."

"But…"

"Recite my words."

"No, Minato this…"

"Please, Kushina, please, just this once." Kushina looks to the side wiping her tears then looks at Minato as if telling him she will follow his lead. Minato's smile grew wider.

In the name of God, the most gracious, the most merciful.

The last thing they saw when their eyes finally shut was a shining light.

Protect our son from all the evil that will confront him, please save him as you have saved us.

The last thing they felt on their cold skin was the warmth no sun could make.

Please our lord grant our prayers.

And the last thing they hear

" Rest, children of our lord, rest. Our lord has answered your prayers." It said with respect towards the couple. "Rest. And be together until the day of judgment."

"Minato! Kushina!"

And just like that, it disappears

Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage, the professor, and many more titles, sped ahead jumping from tree to tree leaving his Anbu bodyguard to dust.

"Lord Third, wait for us!" a masked man, an Anbu, called for him.

"We cannot wait any longer! The more we wait, the more dangerous the situation will become!" A bright explosion stopped him and his bodyguards. 'Bijuu bomb, damn it!' he wordlessly continues toward where Minato has teleported the Kyuubi. While he is silent on the outside, his mind is churning with questions.

'How did Kyuubi escape? Did Minato fail? How did it destroy the barrier? What happened to his Anbu team? Is the child safe?' And more importantly: 'Biwako'

As he fast approaches the clearing where Minato and Kushina are, he feels and sees a warm light that envelops him. At first, he felt suspicious but that was quickly dissipated, sensing no ill intention at the weird phenomenon. That suspicion came right back as a mysterious being of light levitating near a dying Kushina and Minato.

"Minato! Kushina!" he called for their names and immediately the being that was there left toward the sky as fast as the eye could blink.

'What was that?!' Hiruzen looked with shock and awe. The speed and the figure of the being made Hiruzen confused.

Destroying the weakened barrier Kushina has made. Hiruzen picked up a blond-haired boy with whiskers on top of an altar and then jumped toward the bodies of the child's parents. Hiruzen touched Minato's neck: not a single pulse then towards Kushina's.

"Lord third," only to stop his action.

"Kushina, you are still alive?!" Joy filled the heart of the old man then sadness as he realized that this was momentary. He could only stay and hear the last word of the now-dying mother.

"His name is Naruto, Uzumaki Naruto, tell Jiraiya sama that he is the one, take care of him…Please…promise me."

Kushina's hands were about to touch Naruto's cheek, only to fall at the last centimeter; Hiruzen quickly caught it. "I Promise… Kushina, " the grip tightens, "I promise."

Her last words: I believe and accept you, my…lord.

Three days later

"Order! Order!" The old woman with a gavel tries to bring some semblance of order to the room filled with men and women who are shouting passionately, each one expressing their opinions with conviction. However, despite her best efforts, it seems as if she is failing.

"Quiet!" The word of the Hokage cut through the unnecessary chatter of the crowd, empowered by his charisma and reputation that promised what would happen if they disregarded him. The room was now quiet, with even some slowing the pace of their breaths in fear of bringing the grizzled old veteran's wrath upon them, The same man who had led them through two shinobi world wars: the Second God of shinobi.

"Good," the Hokage said with approval. "Now that all of you know your place, let's start the meeting. Dragon, report on the theater of operations."

As the Hokage ordered, a tall man suddenly appeared beside the Hokage, kneeling and then standing while bowing to the other figures in the room. "The minor village seems indifferent to our plight. We have detected that they've increased their garrison near the border regions in case of conflict should the major villages attack us and trigger another war."

"And the major villages themselves?" The Hokage asked the commander of the Anbu forces.

"Observing, trying to find holes in our defenses. Suna and Kiri are still recovering from the Third Great War; it's Kumo and Iwa that our analyst is worried about. They've been trying to enter our borders, planting spies, and gathering intelligence, causing constant border skirmishes. However, overall, they do not dare to escalate in fear of another Shinobi World War."

The news that Dragon shared brought many to release a sigh of relief. Their greatest fear of opportunistic actors taking advantage of their weakness is unproven to be true. The Kyuubi have destroyed a significant amount of their combat prowess; many chunin and jonin have died in the fight against the Kyuubi, including the death of the fourth Hokage, whose legendary status is only comparable to the first Hokage himself. With their greatest defender now resting with his wife, and the many capable shinobi that are remaining, no one will deny that another war would be disastrous for Konoha. Even Danzo, proponents of war, would grimace if, in their weakened current state, they would go to war. Konoha will be defeated and there is no denying it.

The Kage nodded. "Well done, Dragon, you may leave." The Hokage turned to the head medic, a woman nearing retirement age and wearing glasses and standard medical garb. "Nanaba, Report."

"It's not looking good, Lord Third," she grimaced. "Of the 150,000 civilians that have been recorded in our village, 13,000 have been declared dead, and 7,000 have suffered serious injuries with a low probability of survival. We are barely able to treat all of them. Our stock of medicine will be reduced to 50% if this continues..." The old lady was silent, lowering her head as tears started to fall. The woman who was a veteran of multiple wars and had seen all the horror mankind had made, broke into tears. "I can't take it anymore; the medical corps are sleeping on the floor while blood is still fresh on their faces. This is the largest casualty Konoha has suffered in history."

"Prioritize to heal the most probable to recover; heal the youngest and pregnant woman first before the older."

The Hokage's instruction made the head medic gape in pure shock horrified at what she just heard; the callous and cold-blooded nature of the order she had been given made her want to vomit.

"Lord Third, most of those who are affected are adult men and women as the epicenter of the attack was in…"

"Nanaba; that wasn't an order," Chill ran through the woman's spine. The aura her Kage exudes makes her feel like an insignificant bug compared to him. "I did not ask for your opinion."

"As… you wish," her mouth trembled, "Lord Third." The woman stood up, bowed to her Kage, then walked toward the door and opened it to leave the room before leaving a final bow. The other occupant of the room pitied the old lady; she was a kind soul.

"Shikaku."

The Jonin commander pulled out a paper and began to read. "Our combat forces have decreased significantly, and we cannot engage in another World War like the last one. We don't have enough manpower; we have lost 1,900 Jonin out of 3,000, and 4,000 Chunin out of 9,000. The Genin core is mostly intact due to your orders to forbid them to engage the Kyuubi, but we suffered a few hundred casualties when they tried to enter the village shelter."

The Village of Konoha in the past was able to defend against the two of the Great Villages on its own, and possibly three like the previous one, if there were someone like Minato. He alone could have kept the Hidden Stone at bay. Konoha had a large number of quality shinobi, but now they were just a normal major power their status as a hyperpower had been unceremoniously removed from their grasp. This has never happened in Konoha's history. They now must learn to adapt and accept the new reality of their situation.

"Hiruzen," The Kage's closest friend and rival Danzo Shimura glances at him with concern.

"I know Danzo, I know," the old Kage said darkly, "Chance of recovery?"

"15 or 17 years," Shikaku stated.

' We can manage that, ' Thought Hiruzen. "Shikaku, I'll assign you to reorganize the Chunin and Jonin forces for the foreseeable future, could I depend on you?" The Hokage smirked knowing the reaction his dependable subordinate would make.

The Nara clan head winced, rubbing his eyes, and sighed, he accepted the responsibility no matter how much he didn't want to. "I'll do what I can, sir." He could see his colleagues, friends, and fellow clan heads snicker at his misfortune; they were given an eye glare by the Nara.

"Danzo you'll have to work overtime," the Hokage stated.

Danzo chuckled, "We always work overtime, Hiruzen," his old friend's joke made Hiruzen smirk.

"Koharu, Homura, can we afford to pay for the damages the Nine Tails has caused us, or should we levy more taxes and tap our emergency reserves?" The mentioning of taxes had everyone in the room sweating bullets; they'd already struggled to repair their properties. Another round of levying taxes would be disastrous for anyone in the room, not to mention most of the occupants are clan heads or a member of prominent ninja families – they also have their members to care for.

"The daimyo had agreed to send us an economic aid package. The war reparations we collected from our "former" enemies were enough for us to rebuild and be able to fund any shortcomings in our next budget; we did not need another round of taxes or pull out some cash from our emergency reserve," Homura explained optimistically, a rather rare event for the usually pessimistic advisor. Only for Koharu to remind them of reality. "That doesn't mean we've escaped our budget problems. We need a commission that is independent to have oversight...". While the wrinkly-faced woman gave them a warning to be careful with their handling of the budget, everyone who has a stake in the budget policy can now sleep at night and not be haunted by the nightmare of red in their bank accounts.

'That was lucky,' thought Hiruzen, and almost everyone in the room. The Hokage may be the one who leads the Village, but that doesn't mean he's exempt from the same laws that govern Konoha's tax policies. The K.I.R.S are ruthless to everyone. Times like these made Hiruzen thankful to live in a village such as Konoha whose economic potential rivals smaller nation-capital cities and the only village (except maybe Kumo) that can be independent from the Daimyo when it comes to budget matters.

"Moving on to another important subject," Danzo steered the conversation. "Have you chosen, Hiruzen?"

The Hokage understands what his friend is saying, and dismisses everyone in the room. "Those who are not my advisors, leave." At the command of the Hokage men and women who could easily break bones and some who could destroy whole platoons of Shinobi stood up without complaint marching toward an exit door. Hiruzen watches them leave, his eyes falling particularly interested in a black-haired man. Fugaku Uchiha.

He was the last to leave the room as the door shut, their eyes locked with each other. There is no doubt in Hiruzen's mind that he is interested in the discussion he will have with his old friends

"I will not support him to be Hokage Hiruzen," Koharu shared his concern. "He is not to be trusted, especially the nature of our recent calamity."

Hiruzen, while he also does not support Fugaku to be Hokage because of his personality, does not like what Koharu is insinuating. "The Uchiha have been loyal to us for decades. Fugaku would never…"

"For just this one time, abandon your idealism to face the truth; the Uchiha are responsible for this mess. We all saw the tomoes in Kyuubi's eyes. It could only mean one thing," Danzo backed Koharu. It seems they have come to a similar consensus. Homura stays on the sideline nodding to what his friends are saying.

Hiruzen being outvoted by his friend tightens his knuckles. While he is the Hokage and has absolute power over the village, no one rules alone. At least no sane people will be willing to rule alone. His friend since the day he got his hat was always the one who had helped him, from the village administration, finance, mission assignment, etc. He could always remove them and they know it, but that doesn't change that he needed them. Ultimately, while their relationship has always been cordial, sometimes there are differences.

"This conversation isn't over," said Hiruzen. Danzo let out a victorious smirk. "Danzo, do you have a candidate in mind?" He wanted to hear his friend's overly opinionated opinion.

"Orochimaru," Danzo said simply.

"No, no, NO!" Hiruzen stood up from his chair. Decades ago or even years ago he would agree to appoint his protege to be his successor, the present Orochimaru, however, he would rather die than see his student be one.

"What option do you–no, WE, have, Hiruzen? Jiraiya is a pervert of the highest order even worse than you, I refuse to see the face of our village to be him, and don't get me started with Tsunade; the only thing keeping that Woman from being branded as a missing-nin is her lineage and your protection. If I were you, I would have dragged that brat here years ago!" Danzo yelled.

"No, Danzo, Orochimaru is out of the question, end of discussion." Hiruzen reaffirmed his stance. If his student's name was put forward years ago, he wouldn't skip a beat to waste any more time to make him Minato's successor. Oh how long he has fallen, darkness now dwells in his pupil's heart it is now obvious to Hiruizen that his favorite pupil is not the man he hoped he would be. Ever since Nawaki died under his watch, Orochimaru has been a changed man, he would never be a Kage, but that does not mean he isn't useful to the village. 'It's not only me who is getting old.' Hiruzen's eyes briefly flashed toward Danzo.

"Then who do you want to be Hokage, Hiruzen? Our options are running low," Homura tapped the long table.

"Kakashi," His answer surprised everyone in the room. He gained a disapproving look from his former teammates. "At least until he is ready to take the reign to be one. As a stop-gap measure, I'll be acting as Kage. Do we reach an agreement?" His friends look at each other, not discussing with words, moments pass, and they give him silent nods of confirmation; while they agree with his decision that doesn't mean they are satisfied with it. That was clear to Hiruzen; they much preferred a younger candidate and Hiruzen thought the same. It's just that they don't have anyone qualified to take Minato's position. So many strong shinobi yet not a single one of them has the personality, charisma, and cunning to be one.

"I need a smoke," Hiruzen walked toward the door with a sigh only to stop a moment when his name was called out.

It was from Danzo, "Hiruzen," a worried-filled tone." It's not your fault." Hiruzen could feel the gaze of his three friends looking at his back; they all pitied him. Pitying him that he lost his successor, pitying him that he lost his wife! The frame of the door creaked from the weight of his grip. With haste, Hiruzen closed the door and didn't respond to what Danzo had said.

'It's always my fault… Danzo. It always has, and it always will.

….

Ismael Abraham is happily chatting with his nephew eating foods that his mother and aunt make, stuffing them in his mouth without a second thought. Today is a special day for him and his family is celebrating their religious holidays. It's not just his family that is attending, even his neighbors and local community are joining the festivity, except one. Ismael searched for his sister hoping that he would fulfill her promise to him to attend the celebration, he asked his cousins, uncles, and even some of Bithia's friends who were attending where she was. Not a single one gave him an answer where she was. He tried to call her to no avail.

The urge to scream was palpable, he was frustrated. That woman promised everyone she would come, she even promised in God's name for his sake. 'Where did I go wrong with that girl?' Ismael sighed, experiencing another case of migraine that his sister always caused. How could he explain this to his mother, she was so delighted when his little sister promised that she would come to the party, his mother missed her, she would always avoid their family and for the life of him he doesn't know why.

Did he do something wrong? Was it his fault? He doesn't know, yet in times like these, he would ask himself if his father could've handled this better than he can. If only he was still here.

After the death of his father in the Great War, Ismael had practically raised his sister. They were immigrants seeking refuge in America to escape the heart of the conflict, but in exchange for protection and citizenship for their whole family, his father had to be drafted into America's Foreign Legion. His father assured him it would be alright and everything would be fine; he promised to return on the next religious holiday. He promised letters to send to him and his family to inform them that he was alright. Letter after letter, his father reassured him, and with each paper, his confidence that his father would survive grew. Until the letters stopped being sent and a man with a formal uniform handed his father's will, dog tags, and his uniform. Ismael, who believed his father believed that he would return to his family, believed that everything would return to normal. Those beliefs were now shattered.

On that day immense sense of responsibility dropped on Ismael's shoulders as the only son, he is now the only man in the household. The responsibility to protect his mother to always guard her honor was now his duty and the responsibility of raising his sister and becoming her only role model was unjustifiably thrust Into him by the vicissitudes of fate. Yet he pushed on trying his best yet still he failed. He failed his family even when tried his damn hardest!.

Bithiah, his sister, was always the odd one out in the family preferring to keep to herself and not even interacting with anyone. Ismael's relationship with her is a strained one and it only gets worse after she enters college five years ago. While they in the past didn't have the best of relationships it never escalated this far, she started to call us bigots, fools, and idiots whenever the topic of religion came out. He tried to reason with her but as he tried it got worse and over time his effort to make peace was transformed into a fiery argument that only made things worse. She is saying these things while being the least successful in the family; even her love life is a disaster. Her ex-boyfriend always says that it seems like Bithiah hates men.

Don't get it wrong, his family still loves her but the way she always antagonizes them… needless to say she is not the most favored member and is being actively isolated to Ismael's dismay. He tried to mend the bridge between her sister and their other family members yet again he still failed. This party was supposed to be one of his other myriad efforts to fix their relationship. That plan was already singing when it wasn't even…

"Ismael!" His mother's voice called out for him, "Where's Bithiah? She said she could come to the party?" demanding the absence of his "beloved" little sister. He tried to hide away his pained look, yet his mother had raised him and there was nothing in the world he could hide from her. "She isn't here is she?"

Ismael looked away from her, ashamed of his failures, he thought her sister was finally letting go of whatever had strained the relationship between her and the family, she thought they could be a family, a normal family yet again. It seems he was still the dumb idealistic child years ago.

Unknown to Ismael, tear after tear was forming on her mother's face dropping like rain, his mother tried to hide it but the quiet sobs from her made Ismael turn his head to see that he had failed yet again. Rage formed in his heart, the woman who had raised him; the woman who had loved him was now letting out tears of sadness and it was all hi-NO it was her fault! He had tried, he had given her a chance to return to her family, and what did she do?! His hand clenched burning with rage.

Wordlessly Ismael left his mother; he was a man on a vendetta. He didn't care if she was his sister, making their mother cry was the last straw for him. His mother called out for his name, but he was so focused on the wrath festering in his soul that it was unheard by him.

Driving using a car, he made his way toward her sister's house, or rather his, considering that he was the one who paid for its rent. He still remembers her sister begging him to send her money and he doesn't have the heart to say no, for all the flaws she has, he still loves her. When she is talked to behind her back by other family members or even her friends, he is the one who defends her, he always has been her only pillar.

Arriving at the front of her house door Ismael knocked the door and called out for her. "Bithiah!" He said a little impatiently. He knocked again. "Bithiah, open the door!!"

Her sister groggily opened the door looking haggard with a foul stench of alcohol enveloping her. ' Has she been drinking all night?' Ismael has no problem with people drinking alcohol even though he despises the drink he only has a problem when someone loses control and becomes addicted to it, something his sister checks both.

'What are you doing here?!" Her voice was cold, not a single warmth directed to her brother.

"You promised me that you'll attend today's…"

"Ahh that, yeah I don't care."

" WHAT!" He screamed. " YOU PROMISED BITHIAH. YOU PROMISED MA THAT YOU WOU…" Bithiah sensing that his brother was about to explode tried to shut the door when Ismael held it from closing. When Ismael was about to talk he saw something that broke him, a woman in her sister's house bare of any clothing and uttered words that told everything Ismael needed to know.

"Bithiah baby, is there something wrong?"

Bithiah expected another round of screaming from her brother and readied to defend herself and the woman she loved instead she saw her brother crying, she had never seen him cry. He was always the dependable perfect brother always trying to appear strong when he was weak and to see him cry…

"How long? " His voice was raspy. Bithiah was silent, not answering his brother. "How long!" He touched his sister's shoulder trying to find the answer.

"Get away from me you freak!" She tried to distance herself from him. Ismael tried to enter her home but was blocked by Bithiah blocking his path. Ismael was so confused that his mind was blank. There was nothing he could think of but to just talk to his sister face-to-face.

"Bithiah, why in God's name are you doing this?!" Tears keep flowing but her sister only sees him with disgust. Instead of the reconciliatory purpose his word only serves as fuel to Bithiah's own bottled emotion. "Why sister?"

"Why do you care!!" She said angrily. " You always hated me! Everyone hated me. I'm the black sheep of the family! Bithiah this Bithiah that. Why can't you just be like Ismael? Why can't you be a good fucking little girl."

"Bith…"

"SHUT UP!!" she screamed with tears." I don't care anymore! I don't care if you're dead! I don't care if I'm dead! I'm tired, Ismael, so so tired!"

"I've always wanted to help you! You're my sister…"

"You've never helped me, you only made things worse. I hate you, I hate you so much!" she said with bitterness a hateful gaze directed at him, a gaze that shook Ismael to the core. "I hate everyone! I hate our fucking family! And I fucking hate mo…" A hard slap cut short whatever insult Bithiah was about to utter. Burning red, her head was almost flung to meet the wooden door. The woman bar naked behind her screamed calling for help.

"I am no longer your brother."

The action he most regrets.

"From this day onward you'll be without a family to lean on."

An action that haunts him.

"Goodbye, Bithiah."

Unknown to him this was his farewell and the last word she had said to her. A bitter way filled with rage and unchecked emotions. He could always regret what he has done, but nothing could change the past.

He turned from his sister's home and entered his car with tears streaking across his cheeks, holding the urge to scream with a wail of pathetic sobs of sadness. His eyes were blocked by teary eyes as he drove his car and Ismael Abraham was no more.