Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto
Warning: This story is written in First Person, and the first few chapters will nearly exclusively feature Mikoto's POV
First of all, you really should check out my profile page, since there are a few things I strongly dislike in the setting, and in a sense, represent my collected thoughts on a lot of those things can be found there. I wouldn't want you to go into this with false expectations of what awaits you ...
... You have returned from taking a look at my profile page?
Good, there are a few more things I have to mention that are relevant to the story.
The premise of this story is heavily inspired by "A Dark Obsession" by Sabaku Ookami. All of you who know the story should be aware that this story will start out pretty dark, touching strongly upon themes like mind-control, mind-rape, and slavery… although I'm not sure how detailed the descriptions will turn out. "A Dark Obsession" never progressed past a certain point, but what I think was reasonable to expect — in case it would have — would be sexual slavery, rape, and incest. All of these things will most likely also be featured in this work.
What it doesn't feature is self-harm or suicidal thoughts and tendencies (small mercies — I know)
For all of you who don't know "A Dark Obsession," the cliff notes are the following: Mikoto runs into Naruto and ends up obsessing over him (therefore the title :)), and she tries to provide him with the life she thinks he deserves. For that goal, she takes out the majority of the Uchiha clan, and the remaining members — virgin girls not past a certain age — she takes with her and Naruto as his servants.
This story will have some parallels to that. What this story won't do is have Mikoto and Naruto flee the village as it occurred in "A Dark Obsession." Let's be clear: if she would have done that, Konoha — and the moment other villages learned Konoha Jinchuriki's, a little boy, is out there ready to be grabbed, the whole world — would be looking for them. Therefore the entire thing would essentially be unfeasible. It is one thing as an S or A rank shinobi to survive under those conditions. However, it is something entirely different if you have genin, academy students, and a young untrained Naruto along for the ride.
Furthermore, this story will use my rules for the Sharingan — as stated in my profile page — and heavily feature them in the first few chapters.
This means I will make use of one of the early instances we see of the Susanoo, where it is shown to possess four eyesockets, and in the case of the Mangekyou Sharingan, with two being closed and empty. So in order to get an Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan, you will need to offer up another set of Mangekyou Sharingan to your Susanno, which then fills up those empty eyesockets with those eyes, thereby creating one set of Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan. This eliminates the eye swap that is quite prominent in this fandom, thus allowing for a clear divide between the Mangekyou Sharingan and Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan eyes, which canon doesn't provide. (The only difference is the number of previous owners) and it also — since eye-swapping is not possible — creates an underlying greed and evil theme for people pursuing an EMS… since the swap to me always felt like a loophole taking away from the "Uchiha curse of hatred."
In addition to this, I will use the premise of another story called "Infinite Sharingan" by Arthur Hansen. It is a story that takes the idea of Naruto's healing ability — which allowed him to regenerate having a fist through one of his lungs — to its logical conclusion: it allows for the regeneration of body parts, including the eyes.
Both of those premises IMO have incredible potential. Unfortunately, I have yet to see either one being used aside from those stories.
You might have noticed, but I'm usually not a fan of Naruto having the Sharingan. A descendant of the Senju/Uzumaki and Uchiha should always end up with a Rinnegan from the start, and as I mention on my profile page — Rinnegan shouldn't have been a stage in the Sharingan development. It should always have been its own unrelated dōjutsu.
Even so, for the second premise to work as needed for this story, Naruto will have a Sharingan. The reason he didn't get a Rinnegan is rooted in the way he got the Sharingan in the first place… which boils down to essentially not allowing his Senju/Uzumaki and Uchiha DNA parts to fuse to create the Rinnegan and instead kept them separate which at the moment I have no intention of changing throughout the course of the story. However, Naruto's Sharingan will be different and follow its own rules, and it might have one or two aspects of the Rinnegan in some fashion. You'll see what I mean by that eventually.
I think I have bored you long enough with some "drivel," so without further ado…
This chapter was edited by PraetorXyn
Chapter 01: Fateful Meeting
I was on my way to the academy, feigning irritation at Kasumi and her apparent lack of skill, to fetch Sayuri in her place. For a chūnin engaged in a friendly sparring match, not noticing the change in the trajectory of a kunai coming her way the very instant it was outside her field of vision was cause for concern. Although, I couldn't really complain, given how easy it was to injure my housekeeper and thus get her out of my way for the day.
Then again, it hadn't really surprised me that since I married Fugaku and surrendered the clan leadership to him, I had noticed a steady decline in ability in our younger generation. It mostly stemmed from an unhealthy overreliance on our eyes, with most of them just becoming mindless apes mimicking their opponents. Worst of all, many seemed to be proud of that fact, not realizing that a generation ago, being called a copycat was one of the gravest insults to people bearing the Uchiha crest. Yet, with the spark of genius that was once present in every single member of the clan being absent in most, it didn't surprise me.
To be fair, this development didn't start with Fugaku, if the accounts of our clan history are to be believed. The clan's decline started back when we were entrusted with the security of the village and the founding of the Uchiha Police Force. This resulted in the clan — for the most part — being confined to the village, with only the occasional exception from within our ranks being allowed to join the shinobi forces proper for any length of time.
This reduced the number of Uchiha whose mere existence could strike fear into the hearts of our enemies to a scant few, and it got rarer and rarer each year. Our clan — by now — was lazily resting upon the accomplishments of our forefathers. I was convinced that in a generation or two the Uchiha name would be said in the same breath as the Yamanaka or the Nara, the Uchiha falling beneath the recognition of even the four noble clans. The reverence of old would be a fading memory with the tale of the great shinobi wearing the Uchiha crest believed to be an exaggeration.
Despite not sharing the misgivings of Fugaku and the elders, it was apparent that the clan's confinement was a measure taken by the Second Hokage to keep us close. Some would call it a reasonable precaution, but there undoubtedly was reason to fear us. Madara made the fact of what one of us could accomplish should we put our minds to it more than evident. We are warriors first and foremost: our place is on the battlefield, where we can feel at home amongst the carnage. Glorified guard dogs we are not: the Inuzuka would fit that bill better than we ever could.
So it was no wonder that Madara — who spent every waking moment of his life on the battlefield — managed to get as strong as he did. Since Tobirama crossed blades with the Uchiha more than once, he must have been painfully aware of this fact. He knew better than to underestimate us, and by trying to keep us away from the fighting, he succeeded in stifling our growth — barring the rare exception. A sensible precaution, one it seemed he managed to instill in his successors before he got himself killed.
As a result, even during times of war, the village leadership hardly called upon us to fight, and when they did, most of the time, it was because they had no other choice. It was a vastly different treatment than the Hyūga received, although they too, had certain duties within the village.
Perhaps Kushina was right when I had brought the matter up with her during our chūnin days that the unequal treatment was rooted in the fact they had chosen to safeguard their eyes while we hadn't. Unfortunately, her attempt to fix that went nowhere when I presented the seal she came up with to my father. Neither he nor the elders deemed it worth their time to fully hear me out, and they dismissed the whole concept out of hand, calling the Hyūga seal a flimsy excuse to justify slavery.
Hypocrisy at its finest.
What had made it worse was that by so doing, they had called into question Kushina's trustworthiness that the seal worked as described and had no hidden function. It didn't help that they had considered us the superior dōjutsu-wielding clan of Konoha, which would have been enough on its own for them to reject the idea.
Obviously, they couldn't have given the Hyūga the opportunity to lord something like copying them over us, ignoring the merits of my proposal entirely, despite our secret history of stealing eyes from one another in the pursuit of lasting power. Then again, the vehemence of their refusal had struck me as odd. A few years later, I had learned the real reason why they had refused. One of the duties of the clan head was harvesting and preserving the eyes of our dead — a secret I had never seen fit to inform Fugaku about, despite officially having handed over leadership of the clan to him.
I had believed myself incapable of contending with the elders on a regular basis and had been sure that if they needled me enough, I wouldn't have been able to resist the temptation to rip their tongues out and put their heads on spikes. On second thought, the condescending looks I would have had to endure for being a woman ruling the clan — coupled with their constant offhand remarks wishing for my little brother to succeed me — would have ensured they wouldn't have survived the first month of my reign.
Besides that, I could do well without the headache this would have created when their next of kin would have inevitably come complaining. Knowing that, by the time I was done expressing my displeasure, our clan probably wouldn't have counted more than ten members.
I have never been able to tolerate incompetence and stupidity around me for prolonged amounts of time, so not having to suffer through the elders' incessant nagging served me quite well. Although, I occasionally couldn't help wondering if the price I had paid for it had been worth it in the end.
Arriving at the academy, I joined a cluster of other parents waiting for their kids to storm out of the gate. With nothing better to do, I allowed my eyes to wander. Besides, some parents or caretakers averted their gaze after seeing me. In some cases, they even went so far as unsubtly steering clear so as not to be seen associating with an Uchiha. I could understand the sentiment: seeing your family being killed by what could only be described as a force of nature and then being unable to take their pound of flesh in retaliation was something many struggled with. Not knowing where to direct your righteous anger was even more so, and I would like nothing more than to give them a chance to sate their cravings for revenge.
Unfortunately, in doing so, I would confirm what was currently considered nothing more than an unsubstantiated rumor: that the Uchiha clan was responsible for what happened. I highly doubted the general populace would care that cousin Obito had been reported dead years prior to that, nor that my investigation into the aftermath of the Kyūbi attack revealed that he hadn't had any contact with any of our kin living in the village. Still, I couldn't be sure he hadn't had anyone else backing him. Another Uchiha was unlikely, since there was only one other body that couldn't be recovered in the last twenty years. According to the reports, he had been killed by Ōnoki's dust-release during the second shinobi world war. Given that Iwa hadn't flaunted an Uchiha clan of their own, I was inclined to believe the veracity of that report.
No, the modification of his body pointed in an entirely different direction, and after I confirmed the validity of my theory, there would be a reckoning. It was only a matter of time.
So when I had found Obito's dead body as I had been trying to reach Minato in order to help him, I had done what I had always been made to believe every reasonable member of a clan would have upon realizing that one of theirs had been responsible for destroying half the village: I had made the evidence disappear, thus marking the greatest regret of my life.
If only I wouldn't have been required to follow what my father had ingrained into my head since I had been a child, and instead could have followed my heart. Then I could have been in time to… I stopped myself from going down that path again as I noticed an ANBU hiding on the roof of a house from where he was overlooking the crowd. He didn't bother hiding very well. Back in the day, Dragon would have had his hide for such a lack of skill. Luckily for him, it seemed I was the only one aware of his presence.
Carefully maintained instincts put me on alert as I continued to scan my surroundings, searching for his teammates. It was rare for ANBU to operate alone — at least not for anything considered crucial. It was likewise rare for them to operate within the village bounds. I didn't have any time to wonder further what his presence was all about, as a horde of screaming children ran out of the building, searching for their parents.
Sayuri had no trouble making me out amongst the people, the superior eyesight every Uchiha possessed even before the activation of the Sharingan showing its worth. She immediately hastened her pace and ran my way with a smile plastered on her face.
Her face had more than just a passing resemblance to her father's, possessing the same eyes and cheekbones, but more importantly, she bought into the same Uchiha exceptionalism as her father, thinking herself to be better than everybody else. This sentiment had only been reinforced since her first day at the academy by becoming top of her class, to this day, a feat I wasn't entirely sure how she managed it. She was average at best, not even close to the skill her older sister called her own at half Sayuri's age. Surely nowhere near good enough to be labeled a genius — a term that had seen such excessive use it had seemingly lost all meaning. I couldn't recall a year in recent memory in which the top student in a class was called anything else.
I missed the times when you actually had to back up such denominations since there was nothing more dangerous than a contorted perception of your own ability. She was already buying into it all, and short of receiving a wake-up call, it would only get her killed sooner rather than later.
Sayuri came to a stop right in front of me, her grin widening. "Mom, what are you doing here?" she asked while searching the crowd. "Where is Kasumi?"
"She hurt herself while training — nothing serious," I informed her.
"Oh," she momentarily deflated, only for her grin to return with a vengeance, "I like you better, anyway. You can come to get me from now on if you like," before mumbling under her breath before she clarified. "Well, on those days Izumi-onee-chan can't."
If it were up to me, I wouldn't mind being here every day — just not for her sake. As it stood, I was already taking a risk by being here. Nonetheless, it was a chance I had to take. I couldn't remain oblivious about his well-being. I needed to know that he was taken care of.
"Unfortunately that will not be possible," I told her, my words wiping the smile from her face. Taking on the same bland expression her father constantly wore on his face, thus further highlighting the similarities between her and the semen donor responsible for her existence.
To be honest, I had never come to like either of my so-called offspring for the simple reason that they were also Fugaku's. Sayuri, in particular — with her mediocre talent, looks, and entitlement that made her a younger female version of her father — had made that rather difficult. Not that I could say I hadn't tried.
But it had become clear rather early on, that the children I had to bear him would never be mine in any way that counted. I had merely been supposed to be the breeding cattle providing an immaculate lineage. The children had always been supposed to be his and his alone, to mold them as he had seen fit, in accordance with our agreement. As a result, after realizing this, I had ceased all attempts to bond with them on more than a superficial level. I hadn't even nursed them to prevent myself from getting attached.
It hadn't been easy to stay away in the case of my firstborn. She had been gifted and intelligent, but most importantly, her features hadn't had any clearly discernable resemblance to her father, having been being a perfect melding of mine and his. It made her look like just another cousin, unlike Sayuri.
There were moments when it had been hard to resist the temptation to nurture her spark instead of seeing it slowly dowsed in the mold Fugaku tried to press her into. Seeing him gradually destroy one of the scant few in our clan who had actually possessed some talent had been difficult to bear.
Naturally, she had easily exceeded her peers despite being under his tutelage — not that it had been challenging by any measure. She most likely would have managed it lobotomized and blinded. The problem was that by helping her, I would have had to renege on the agreement that had freed me from any kind of responsibility of leading a withering clan in exchange for two children and playing the perfect wife — his very own Yamato Nadeshiko.
It had come to me easily enough. The role had not been very demanding, especially since I hadn't had to suffer his touch — not that I had believed myself to be capable of it. The very thought of it had turned my stomach. His daughters — whom had merely been the product of impregnating myself with the semen he had provided — had been cut from my body by myself nine months later.
After my first meeting with a prospective husband, I had known that none of them could ever hope to come close to anything resembling what I might have had with Kushina and Minato — the only family I ever had. Since then, I hadn't been given a choice other than to follow the suggestion forced upon me. Kotoamatsukami: the sole genjutsu I hadn't been able to overcome. I had chosen the lesser evil in Fugaku. He at least hadn't been twice my age and had been amicable to accept my deal if it brought him the clan leadership.
I probably should have considered myself lucky because if not for my progenitors — the word father does carry an implied closeness that hadn't existed between us — lack of skill, and poorly worded instructions, the marriage would have been happily consummated.
Any belief I might have held onto that this had been the result of a consideration on his part not to infringe on my mind — at least not any further than he absolutely had to — had been crushed just yesterday. He had overheard a reoccurring argument between me and Fugaku, during which Fugaku had expressed his displeasure about the two agreed-upon children — both girls — and had demanded that we renegotiate the terms.
My progenitor — realizing the loopholes he had left — had tried to rectify his mistake by attempting to use his eye on me again.
I hadn't been able to break the compulsion he had already placed on me, but preventing a repeat had been well within my power. My rather violent objection had made sure of it, as I had taken his life and his eyes for myself. This had been an auspicious occasion since his Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan had possessed the power to break any genjutsu — making it possible to remove my conditioning.
As it turned out, it hadn't by far been the only instance he had used his eye on me to enforce a specific behavior. It had simply been that in all those other instances, he had thought it prudent to keep me from remembering — something he had decided to forego when he had compelled me to marry, to show me my place.
It hadn't been until that moment that I had realized the full scope of how he had violated my mind over the years — how none of the decisions I had made throughout my life had truly been my own.
It had also never occurred to me before that the reason I hadn't killed him and made him suffer for his actions could be rooted in another genjutsu placed on me years earlier. What had turned out to be his fatal mistake was not having altered how I perceived and reacted to threats, thus having allowed me to defend myself. Since I hadn't been keen for my mind to be played around with, I had considered him trying — an attack upon my very being — as an attack on my life, and had reacted accordingly to it, using deadly force.
I had been his puppet all along. An unwilling one for sure, who had fought against being manipulated using every loophole and trick imaginable, but a puppet, nonetheless.
Every decision I had ever made had been influenced by his machinations. I had joined ANBU to spy on the village for him. My disinterest in leading the clan had stemmed from his not wanting me to be in charge. By marrying me off to somebody sharing his vision and making me hand over the clan leadership to my husband, he had avoided breaking the succession laws.
Because without someone holding my strings, I had been bound to go against his vision of the Uchiha clan, eventually — something my proud entitled progenitor Kagami couldn't have allowed to happen, which was why my rebellious brother had never been deemed a suitable replacement for me either.
Compared to what I had lost by being forced to marry Fugaku — the son he always wanted — this hadn't even registered. It had never been my hurt pride at coming in second place at winning Minato's affection — or jealousy — that had prevented me from sharing my life with the only two people I had ever truly loved, but another compulsion.
The truly unforgivable act, however, had been forcing me to keep my status as Naruto's godmother a secret, and for allowing the village to take custody of him — the last living piece of Minato and Kushina left in the world. My progenitor had even seen fit — given my proclivity to find ways around his compulsion — to steer me clear of every location I could potentially run into him. He obviously hadn't wanted the village to see an Uchiha associating with the host of the kyūbi, thus stoking the rumors.
Sayuri — no longer disheartened by my words — took my hand in hers and tried to drag me away — a futile attempt. My feet would stay rooted in place until I accomplished what I came here to do as I continued to scan the crowd for a yellow mop of hair. I vividly remembered the single instance I had seen him from afar just moments after his birth and the death of his parents. Watching the Third removing the newborn boy from the grasp of his dead parents had been the worst thing I had ever witnessed.
The crushing guilt at arriving too late had been the worst feeling I had ever felt, and courtesy of the Sharingan was something I could never forget. The memory had burned itself into my mind to never fade away, and it had haunted my dreams ever since.
Just as Sayuri got tired of pulling at my hand and opened her mouth to complain, I found what I was looking for. A patch of yellow-blonde hair made its way through the crowd. I trained my eye on him and didn't waste a moment following him. Sayuri's mouth escaped a sudden yelp as I dragged her along.
The people surrounding us only allowed me a few fleeting glances at him, for the most part blocking my view.
"Where are we going, mom? Our house is that way!" Sayuri saw fit to mention.
As he reached the edge of the area, the boy's way was obstructed by three boys standing in a loose circle next to the academy railings talking to each other. Without hesitating, he pushed through — grazing the shoulder of one of the boys — a mumbled 'sorry' on his lips.
The boys took a moment to look at each other, and the big-boned kid I pegged as an Akimichi asked, "Was that?" only to receive two nods in response. A sadistic grin was the unspoken signal for them to turn around and pursue Naruto running.
I increased my pace and directed chakra to my eyes. Immediately my perception sharpened, and the world seemed to move in slow motion. The Sharingan helped me to navigate the maze of people without having to clear the obstacles in my way with force. When I cleared the crowd and turned into the same street, I saw the tail end of the three older boys having Naruto in a headlock and maneuvering him into a side street.
My jog turned into a full sprint as I closed the distance, dragging along a stumbling Sayuri. When I reached the mouth of the alleyway, the three older boys had Naruto against the wall, surrounded on all three remaining sides.
"Mom, what are we doing here?" Sayuri asked. Only after a few moments in which I didn't respond did she follow my view. "Huh, what is that idiot doing picking fights?"
The grip of my hand around hers suddenly strengthened considerably, threatening to crush her fingers. It took her screaming out in pain and trying to free her hand for me to realize what I had done.
I released her hand and saw from the corner of my eyes how Sayuri was nursing her hand.
"That hurt!" she wailed.
I ignored her and instead focused on what was happening in the alleyway.
"Let me go, you big jackasses!" Naruto shouted. A hard shove against the wall stopped his attempts to push through the encirclement.
Laughing, the brown-haired boy standing in front of Naruto said, "We might do that after you kneel before us and beg for forgiveness, demon brat."
Neither he nor the third boy with his moss-green hair seemed to belong to a clan, lacking any of the typical features associated with them. This in turn called my initial assumption for the big-boned kid to be an Akimichi into question. A clan child should know better than to mess with a jinchūriki.
That was a term for which it was hard to put my disdain into words because none of the three people I knew who had qualified for carrying that distasteful designation deserved to be called human sacrifice.
More importantly, how did they even know about Naruto's status? Wasn't it forbidden to talk to kids about it?
The ANBU from before shunshined on top of the wall the boys were standing next to, interrupting my thoughts. This could only mean one thing: that he was Naruto's protection detail. So far, I wasn't impressed with his performance.
As pleased as I was at his presence for rendering my interference redundant should this get out of hand, it also complicated things. It prevented me from making contact with Naruto if I didn't want the Hokage and Danzo to know about it. Just being here might suffice for my name to appear in the mission report of that ANBU operative.
Another foiled escape attempt from Naruto made them change their strategy. "Hold him," ordered the brown-haired boy. Naruto wasn't given a chance to react as the two remaining boys grabbed one of his arms each, holding him in place. "I'm really gonna enjoy this," he proclaimed as he took a loose stance and punched Naruto in the stomach.
The hit from the older boy — who was a full head bigger and at least two years older than Naruto — made him retch in pain. The only thing stopping him from crumbling into a ball on the floor were the hands holding him upright.
I balled my hands into fists, and my head tilted upwards, glaring at the ANBU operative. Since he hadn't intervened yet, I wondered what it would take for him to do so.
Meanwhile, the brown-haired boy threw his second punch, a well-placed right hook that made Naruto sputter blood on the big-boned kid's shirt.
"Hey, careful!" he protested at his friend, taking a step to the side.
"My bad," the brown-haired kid apologized, scratching the back of his head.
"Just make sure it doesn't happen again. It's bad enough I have to touch him." Hearing this, I clenched my fist even harder, my nails painfully digging into the palm of my hands, and one thing became abundantly clear to me: my progenitor's death came far too swiftly and easily. He deserved to suffer for months on end. He should have died begging for his death.
Nodding, the brown-haired boy returned to his stance and once more landed a devastating hit on Naruto's stomach that lifted him from the ground.
Despite that, the ANBU continued to observe and didn't see fit to act at seeing his charge being pummeled. I, however, had seen more than enough, kicking up a thumbnail-sized stone at my feet straight up into the air. Waiting for the stone's descent, I kicked it again shortly before it could touch the ground, propelling it at Naruto's attackers.
A dull sound resounded as the stone hit the moss-haired boy facing away from me in the back of his head. The force of the hit made him stumble forward, releasing the grip on Naruto's arm at the exact same time the brown-haired boy swung his fist for the fourth time.
The sudden absence of a hand pulling Naruto right made him move left. Taking full advantage of this momentum and putting everything into his strike, Naruto smashed the big-boned boy's face. The boy's nose broke with a loud crunch. Dazed, he stumbled backward and fell over his own feet. At the exact same time, the brown-haired kid fist made contact with the wall at the very spot Naruto's head had been just a moment earlier.
A painful yelp escaped him as he withdrew his hand and cradled it against his body. Naruto didn't waste any time and took advantage of the opening I had created and viciously attacked the sole remaining and still-standing opponent.
The ANBU operative's gaze, perched on the roof, fell on me. Falling right into my trap: the moment our eyes met, I put him into a genjutsu rooting him in place.
An instant later, my attention returned back to Naruto. His form was off as if he had never received formal training in the academy. His wide swings were something you would expect to see in a brawl between civilians, not a fight between academy students. Despite this apparent lack of skill, his punches were undoubtedly powerful, judging by the reaction whenever his fists made contact with his opponent's body. The brown-haired boy's one-handed attempts at protecting himself were awfully inadequate. Naruto's attacks were about to overwhelm his opponent any moment now.
Unfortunately, it was time he didn't have, as the green-haired boy with the broken nose was moments away from rejoining the fight.
"Sayuri, go help Naruto," I ordered, in an attempt to even the odds.
Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she hissed, "Helping that idiot, definitely not." I couldn't help but notice that this was twice now she had insulted Kushina's son — two times too many — and I would make her regret it.
Sayuri's refusal wasted precious seconds — seconds that would have allowed her to arrive just in the nick of time to intercept Naruto's second adversary before he could rescue his brown-haired friend from the brink of defeat.
A yell was all the warning Naruto got before the green-haired boy rejoined the fight by delivering a kidney shot from the side. The powerful punch made Naruto stumble against the wall, aborting his flurry of attacks.
The newly opened-up distance created a short lull in the fight that Naruto tried to use to recover, but he wasn't the only one taking a breather.
The green-haired boy used the time to wipe the blood from his face that continued to run down his crooked nose. His brown-haired friend — worse for wear — raised himself up from his defensive shell to his full height. Touching his busted lip, he gave Naruto a hateful glare.
What I found most curious was the labored breathing the brown-haired kid tried to get back under control, whereas Naruto's breathing was hardly accelerated even though he had exerted himself to a far greater degree. It was a testament to the famed endless Uzumaki stamina.
With a nod shared between the two kids, they once more advanced on Naruto, trying to flank him. Naruto, who had leaned against the wall, pushed himself upright and put up his guard for round two.
In the meantime, I was torn between stopping the fight and allowing it to play out a bit further now that Naruto was in a position to defend himself against his attackers. At the end of the day, a fight like this with no rules was a rare chance to get an accurate measure of his character. I needed to see what he was made of before irrevocably tieing my fate to his.
So far, it seemed he had gotten more from his mother than just his stamina. Minato — by this point — would have made a run for it, either realizing the danger of facing multiple opponents at the same time posed, or getting them to split up and ambush them separately. Kushina — on the other hand — would have been too stubborn to employ such tactics and would have stayed and slugged it out to the last one standing, just like her son.
Staying my hand for the moment, I watched the fight proceed. His opponents shuffled closer and closer in an attempt to make use of their greater reach. They tried to keep Naruto at bay while they hammered him from two opposite sides, realizing he could only effectively defend against one of them at a time.
Naruto was having none of it. Instead of allowing himself to be cornered — with his back literally against the wall — he went on the offensive. I couldn't tell if he instinctively sought his fortune by attacking, or if analyzing the facts and concluding it was the most promising tactic to apply. Either way, it was the right choice to make. Take out one of your opponents as fast as possible before he can receive help or a breakthrough to end the encirclement, at least momentarily.
The problem was both of his opponents had superior range, were bigger and had around forty pounds more mass than Naruto. Unlike last time, they were alert — no longer underestimating him — and it showed. Naruto made a good attempt when he suddenly struck.
Arms raised, shielding his head, he closed the distance to the brown-haired boy, and even though he anticipated a punch coming his way and was fully prepared to block it, he didn't account for the power behind it. The straight aimed at his head — although not penetrating his guard — slowed down his advance — if just barely. This resulted in him ending up a few inches short of where he would have been if not for that hit. A few inches in a fight can make all the difference, as Naruto learned the hard way when his right hook swished past his opponent's chin straight through the hole in the brown-haired boy's guard that opened up when he had thrown the straight. A slight miscalculation of distance — or depending on one's perspective, a miscalculation of timing now that he missed — made the fight far harder.
Another straight from his backtracking opponent that ended in Naruto's guard stalled his advance again, long enough for the green-haired kid to move behind him. I wasn't sure what tipped Naruto off — instinct or perhaps the green-haired boy's wheezing — but he managed to evade the punch aimed at the back of his head, ducking beneath it, and nearly ramming his nose into the raised knee of the opponent in front of him. Only his fast reaction — catching the knee with both hands — let him escape the same fate as the green-haired boy and prevented him from getting his nose crushed.
Unfortunately — with his hands occupied — the middle kick from the green-haired kid hit home. Naruto was struck an inch above his hip and stumbled backward, in the direction of the big-boned kid my stone throw had taken out.
The two standing opponents drew closer from the front, trying to herd him closer to their downed friend. I didn't think he would be in any condition to render them any help for a bit longer, since he was still dazed, lying on the floor and arms raised protectively over his head, nursing his injury. Neither did I think it was what they had planned.
It was more likely they hoped to get Naruto to trip over their friend to give them a chance to pin him on the ground, which — if successful — would end the fight decisively in their favor. Naruto — given his far smaller stature — would have no chance to escape their grasp.
They relentlessly attacked Naruto, who tried to minimize the damage he suffered by putting up his arms and curling in upon himself, thereby reducing the surface area that could be struck. Meanwhile, he was waiting, looking for the opportunity to launch a counterattack. An opportunity he realized — after one punch after the other battered his defense, with some even penetrating it — wouldn't arise if he didn't create it himself. His opponents' longer reach, double the number of limbs, and doing their best at covering each other's mistakes sufficed at keeping him at bay.
He chose to do it in a way that would have made his mother proud and embarrassed in equal measure. Proud because I knew for a fact she had done the same at least once, leaving no doubt that Naruto was definitely her son. Embarrassed because it was a stupid thing to do: no one in their right mind would forego defense and decide to trade blow for blow. Still, that was what he chose to do. Without any regard for his health, he was giving as good as he got as the three of them were beating each other bloody.
A punch followed by a punch, a kick by a kick, with the occasional counter mixed in. It made predicting who would win a thing of impossibility. The outcome would be determined by who could take more punishment — something I usually would never dare bet against an Uzumaki and certainly not against Kushina's son on — but it might just as well come down to who landed the lucky punch. Given that Naruto was fighting against two, the odds were not in his favor. Additionally, I had no intention of allowing for the off-chance his spirit could end up broken by losing a meaningless fight in a side street.
I was about to step in and put an end to the fight when there was a sudden shift. Naruto, who until mere moments ago had been severely struggling — with his defense entirely consisting of the occasional block — and out of nowhere, added parries to it. This allowed him the masterful deflection of even their fastest attacks. It took him only a few more exchanges, and he started to slip around their attacks. He was reading them like an open book. After a short adjustment period — not lasting more than a few heartbeats — he was entirely evading any hit, leaving him to dish out the hurt, his wide and flailing swings from before in just a few exchanges gained a precision I would not have thought think him capable of for a few years yet. He was accurately — and with perfect timing — striking whenever there was an opening to exploit. By now, he was taking them apart, the slugfest having turned into a one-sided slaughter.
It nearly seemed as if… but that couldn't be… if only he wasn't fighting with his back to me so I could make sure.
I was about to dismiss the thought as nothing more than mad ravings when he slipped under a punch, and by so doing, had to turn his head slightly when I caught a glance of something that should be outright impossible.
How could he have a Sharingan… the ritual… it all suddenly occurred to me. Kushina's blasted adoption ritual had worked. Her hare-brained idea of creating artificial Uzumaki by transferring genetic markers I helped her develop had actually worked. I had been convinced after we had tried to become real blood sisters and nearly died in the process that it had been a failure. Clearly, I had been mistaken. The boost in chakra capacity and the increased density I gained in the aftermath were decidedly not the results of my training efforts as I had initially believed, and Kushina had never mentioned anything because shortly after our folly, she had discovered she was with child.
Suddenly it all made perfect sense. We used that ritual in April, and Naruto was born on October the tenth. By then, she must have already been pregnant. That was just like her: only the scatterbrained Kushina could lose track of her cycle like that.
Then the realization hit me. This meant nothing else than that Naruto wasn't just Minato and Kushina's child: he was mine as much as he was theirs. He was mine too… I couldn't help but grin.
Convinced of Naruto's impending victory, my focus wavered, and I allowed myself to get distracted by my thoughts. As a result, of that momentarily slip, I only registered the steps behind me as they came to a sudden stop, "What the…" was as far as the shrill voice of a rotund woman managed to get when my eyes landed on her. She stilled instantly as I put her in a genjutsu and made her walk into the mouth of the alley to avoid attracting undue attention.
When I turned back to the fight, I saw the tail end of how the big-boned kid smashed a brick from behind against the side of Naruto's head.
A single moment of inattention threatened to destroy everything I thought I had just found.
Despair clenched my heart. My eyes recorded every gruesome detail of how Naruto's eyesocket was smashed in, with blood and chunks of his eye getting splattered onto the floor. Another memory — ripe to be added to my collection of the ever-increasing number of my failings — that would undoubtedly haunt me for the rest of my life. A punishment fitting the crime of allowing Naruto to be injured.
I pushed myself to go faster — faster than I ever moved — to reach Naruto, fully aware that despite all my powers, it just wasn't enough. I was once again too late to protect what was most dear to me,
and the Sharingan — my clan's lauded bloodline — once more proved to be a curse, ensuring I could never forget another one of my failings.
Naruto crumbled into a heap on the floor, unconscious. An instant later, I came to a stop beside the boy, catching the wrist of his hand midswing in an iron grip stopping his motion cold. Looking him up and down, I didn't think I had ever felt so much hatred for a person as I did for him at that very moment, as not even my progenitor registered. It would be so easy to snuff the life out of these insects for having dared to raise their hands to my Naruto.
In the last moment, my calculating mind prevailed over my raging feelings, and I only ended up kicking the kid's feet from under him while holding onto his hand. His shoulder dislocated, accompanied by a sickening crunch, and he landed painfully on his side. A glance in my eyes kept him from crying out in pain. I wouldn't want his screams to alert anyone. Naruto had two other adversaries attacking him from the front which I had put under a paralyzing genjutsu on my approach, keeping them in place.
I might have need of them, especially should I decide that further punishment was in order. This time I wouldn't allow my prey to escape me into the clutches of death — not before they made amends.
I didn't waste another second on that human trash. Kneeling down next to Naruto, I carefully turned him onto his back and lowered his head to the floor, clinging to the hope that up close, the damage to his eye would be far less severe than it seemed. That hope evaporated into thin air when I finally saw his face. His eyesocket was a bloody ruin, his eye destroyed beyond repair. Only a few tiny bits and pieces of it remained after it had popped.
Desperate — and unwilling to accept this — I used the mystical palm technique trying to fix it, even though I knew it was futile. Jutsu in hand — in the middle of bringing it closer to his face — I halted mid-motion, unable to believe my eyes as right in front of me, his injuries began to rapidly heal. The chunks of flesh connecting to each other grew in size, and within moments his eye regenerated as if it had never been damaged.
Wiping the blood from his face, I couldn't help but notice — seeing him up close for the first time — how much he looked like a perfect blend of Kushina and Minato. He had his father's yellow-blonde hair combined with Kushina's round chin and cheekbones, and now it seemed he had my eyes.
The raw power they had emitted was unlike anything I had ever felt before. To confirm my suspicion, I used a diagnostic jutsu and found myself surprised at how much even I had underestimated the density and sheer amount of chakra at his disposal. He easily outclassed anyone in the village, and the gulf would only grow wider as he grew older. In addition, I couldn't find a single scar or other lasting damage on his body — even though he was malnourished and seemed to lack some vitamins and minerals.
I couldn't even imagine how powerful a shinobi he could become with the right tutelage.
He was perfect. Our perfect little boy, Kushina and Minato, I thought to myself, with my lips curled upwards as I caressed his cheek. From now on, I would make it my life's mission to protect and care for him, as it always should have been. The beginnings of a plan formed in my mind.
Sayuri's careful approach — eying the downed kids — reminded me that we weren't alone. My gaze flickered to the big-boned kid on the floor. It would have been easy to assign full responsibility for why my Naruto got hurt to him, but that would just be lying to myself when — in truth — I was to blame.
It was my presumption that the big-boned kid lying on the floor was incapacitated which had led to this.
He must have shaken off his daze when I wasn't looking, and — upon realizing there was still a fight going on — must have reached for the first thing in the immediate vicinity and found a loose brick.
He then must have risen from the ground, and — before he was fully upright — must have been swinging the brick in his hand in a smooth motion with all his might toward Naruto's head.
This had forced me to watch in slow motion as the brick shattered against his skull right before my eyes, making me regret the decision of letting that fight play out. I should have interfered right from the very moment they had dared to lay their hands on my Naruto. He might not have liked getting rescued. After all, Kushina, certainly never had, with one exception: when Minato did the rescuing… but at least he would have been safe, and none of this would have ever happened.
Kushina would have scoffed at me, "Don't sweat it, Miki. There was no lasting harm done, and you can't always protect him. Whatcha can do is teach him to do it himself." For all the goofing around, she was prone to, she had a habit of voicing profound wisdom out of nowhere.
Oh, how I missed that crazy redhead. She would have been right. This insect wasn't worth my time.
I returned my attention to my Naruto. Making sure to numb his pain receptors, I took out a scroll and retrieved an alcohol-filled cylindrical bottle from within, and removed the cap. Stroking through his hair, I steeled my nerves for what I was about to do. No matter how much I would rather not hurt my baby — even if I knew it was only temporary — it had to be done. I needed to know, for his sake.
Carefully lifting up the eyelids of his left eye with one hand, I worked my thumb index and middle finger slowly under the eyelids until I could grab his eye. A small yank later removed it from its socket, and with a chakra scalpel, I severed the optical nerve.
I waited, holding the eyeball in my hand until I saw him regenerate the eye I just took, and only then placed it in the bottle and proceeded to take his other one.
A retching sound reminded me that I wasn't alone. A glance over my shoulder showed me how my daughter desperately tried to keep her breakfast down. Since I couldn't allow her to contaminate this site, I put her under a quick genjutsu, which had the added bonus that it also prevented her from voicing any questions. Not that it would make a difference even were I to answer them, since I fully intend to be the only one who remembered this incident had ever occurred.
Closing the lid on the bottle, I sealed it back into the scroll. Cradling Naruto in my arms, I stood up and carefully positioned him against the wall. He would wake up any minute now.
Concentrating more chakra into my eyes activated their advanced form. Seeking out the gaze of all five other people present one after the other, I went to work and modified their memories or in Sayuri's case erased the knowledge of ever being here.
Except for Sayuri, they would remember Naruto kicking the three kids' asses, and since I made sure he would be the first to wake, they wouldn't doubt it. Waking, lying in their own blood with their prey-turned-predator nowhere in sight.I made sure the woman — who turned out to be the big-boned kid's mother, the family relation undeniable — wouldn't take too kindly to her child beating on someone younger, a mild lingering suggestion that the Hokage wouldn't like it if someone hurt the kyūbi-brat doing the trick.
The ANBU was the only one for which I took my sweet time sifting through his memories. They were a treasure trove of information, although most of it was not really useful to me other than learning that ANBU were used with increasing frequency to watch the Uchiha compound and to shadow its members when outside.
The only conclusion to be drawn from this, was that we were under surveillance.
Since I doubted he would risk alienating a founding clan over rumors, he must have had some credible intel to motivate this course of action. I suspected someone inside the clan was willingly or unwillingly feeding the village information. Pondering that for a moment made my oldest offspring and my little brother the most likely candidates. They were amongst the small number with the necessary skill, had ties outside the clan, and given they both were ANBU enjoyed the trust of our village leader.
I had known Fugaku would be an obstacle to my plans, but I had assumed for entirely different reasons and this certainly complicated things. If I wanted to preserve the clan as a tool, dedicating it to one goal and one goal only — safeguarding Naruto — then taking drastic measures was inevitable. The infestation that had brought the clan low need to be cut out — root and stem — to allow for a new beginning. Only this time, I would personally make sure it was done properly.
"Sayuri, come here. It is time to go home" I informed her, putting out my hand for her to grab it. "There are some important errands I have to run."
Authors Note:
To clarify a bit, since there is not really a place to do this in the story, among the commands Mikoto had to follow were commands such as honoring the clan, respecting your elders, etc. Furthermore, Mikoto was ordered to marry one of the few Uchiha candidates she was presented with. All the sons of the clan elders, their ages ranging from half a decade older than her (Fugaku) to more than twice her age. She decided to pick the least egregious one of the options presented to her in Fugaku. She was then ordered to marry him and bear his children, with no further specifics. So unable to go directly against the command, Mikoto out of spite for being forced into that marriage only put in the effort to fulfill the letter but not the spirit of it. This included not birthing her husband's children the natural way by C-sectioning herself… it helped with dissociating from the kids as her children.
She made a deal with Fugaku — I chose you, but for doing so, I want certain concessions. She would bear his children, but he wasn't allowed to touch her among other things.
In regards to Mikoto's MS, or to be more precise, EMS most will be explained in the coming chapters, only so much in the story itself. The abilities she awakened when she activated her MS seeing both Kushina and Mikoto dead at the Kyuubi's hands are the following:
Left eye: Amenotokotachi: Allows her — after making eye contact — to sift through a person's memories (not unlike Tsukuyomi).
Right eye: Kamimusubi: Allows her to insert or alter memories (alter obviously requires her to have seen the memory, and thus it works best in tandem with her left eye).
In case you were wondering, Sayuri's date of birth got changed in this AU. She was born in March, a few months earlier than canon Sasuke, so the ritual could occur after Mikoto's pregnancy, but before Kushina would really start to show (at least according to my internet sources).
Some have undoubtedly noticed, but the "true" divergence point of this fic is essentially the Ritual and not Obito's death and Mikoto's subsequent witnessing of Minato and Kushina's deaths.