Naruto x Digimon
Alive - Team Minato's Digidestined
Chapter 01
Song: Zeds Dead & DNMO - Save My Grave (feat. GG Magree)
Originally Written: November 5, 2022 656PM to 810PM
A/N: Obito was late to his own death. Kakashi is drunk. Rin is in a one-sided relationship with life. Minato is trying to keep them alive. And Coronamon, Gabumon and Lunamon want them all to pull their heads out of the ground of the Elemental Nations. With that, Team Seven's story begins.
Welcome to "Alive - Team Minato's Digidestined". This story started out as a subplot in my other story "Just a Survivor". When I placed that story on permanent hiatus, I realized I had most of another story within "Just a Survivor". I outlined, and organized all of these ideas into something of a scene-by-scene story format, and "Alive - Team Minato's Digidestined" was born.
I do not yet know how many chapters I will upload a week, as I am still in the process of doing final revision and edits. For now, I will follow 'Humanity and Heroes' upload schedule; one chapter a week. If this changes, I will let you know. Since the chapters are short, and this story is newly uploaded, I'm uploading two chapters for you this time around.
I do hope you like it. Thank you for reading!
. . . . .
You make my eyes see brighter days
Feels as if you run through my veins
I'm wondering if the way
I'll arrive to my death
Is late, drunk and in love
Late, drunk and in love
A small child with a head of wild silver hair and dark eyes stared in boredom and confusion at the strange item sitting on his bed. The room was dark, with no lights on. The curtains were drawn, and he was certain he set up all the traps to protect the house just like his father taught him. Yet, here it was, sitting on his bed once again.
He held a sigh, "Didn't I throw this thing out already? Am I starting to get confused?"
It always showed up on his bed. He picked up the white rectangular item with a strange clear window on it and stepped out of the room. He walked through the dark halls of the empty house. Past the permanently stained spot on the floor where he found his father. A father who slain himself by his own hand in disgrace, leaving his only son to break the blows of shame said father left behind. He ignored the spot as he passed.
The item first showed up the day of his father's funeral. It was a funeral where very few paid their respects. He didn't know if it was so, but he wouldn't have been surprised if someone came along and told him that more people came to his mother's funeral than his father's. If that was true, his father only had himself to blame. Follow the rules, and you can't be punished for breaking them.
He passed his bare kitchen, stocked with mainly ration bars, and small items that made quick meals he couldn't possibly burn. He stepped outside and looked over the small house the Third Hokage believed he actually wanted. He never actually said he didn't want it, but to assume that he did was a bit insulting, he thought. Clan politics were annoying. His father struggled greatly with them, so mostly ignored them, and followed his gut when it came to making alliances and trusting others. He stared at the front door of the house, lost in thought.
"If he trusted himself, he'd still be alive." He murmured.
The item showed up every day after the academy. An academy where students were regularly mocked and teased almost as badly as other shinobi did to his own father. A kid who liked green far too much openly followed him around. A female who was potentially distantly related to the Inuzuka, followed him around in secret. And the dead last of his grade followed him around thinking he had any chance to defeat him in any shinobi related challenge. He lost every single one, making a bigger fool of himself. Maybe he didn't have parents to look after him either, and apparently the Uchiha Clan didn't care either way, for the way they let him run around.
"That will never happen to me." He squeezed the item in his hand. Everyone else in the classes jeered at him or ignored him. Other boys talked about girls paying attention to them, but he didn't understand why, and no girl wanted to talk to him. He didn't care either way. They never had anything nice or important to say. All the students were older than him, and he had nothing in common with them.
Sometimes it showed up on his pillow in the morning. The night before he would throw it out, and when he woke the next morning, there it was sitting on his pillow next to his head, glowing like a night light in the darkness of the bedroom. "Never. Ever."
He stuffed the item into his pants pocket, and stepped out of the house. He checked the traps again, and added a few new ones. Despite all the work, he had the feeling it wouldn't matter.
It showed up in the time he was away from the house on his shopping trips. If he timed getting rid of the item right, it didn't show up when Jiraiya or Orochimaru showed up, sent on an errand to check up on him from the Third. That was rare though, because he never knew for sure when one of the Third's students would be in the village. Truthfully, he wished the Third would leave him alone.
"The Third should have looked after my father. The Will of Fire is a lie." He murmured, as he crouched down next to his last set up trap.
His shoulders slumped. He was going to go to the training grounds to train, but the item distracted him when he noticed it on his bed for the umpteenth time. Someone would have probably bothered him with comments he wasn't interested in anyway.
"I'll be strong enough on my own. No one will rely on me, and I won't need to rely on them."
He pushed himself to his feet, and trudged off. If he couldn't motivate himself to train, he could do some cleaning. He'd need to pick up some supplies though. On the way, he rid himself of the item by throwing it into a trash bin in the shopping district. He made sure to cover it up with extra trash. If anyone wanted it, they would need to work to get it.
He sighed as he walked out the alley. It wouldn't work, he surmised, but he tried anyway. He once buried the thing and it came right back. He had looked at the spot he buried it, and it looked untouched. So he dug up the spot that it had been, and there was nothing there, so he knew it was the one that kept coming back to him. Why it kept coming back to him, he didn't know, and he wasn't sure he appreciated the 'entertainment' of whoever was trying to prank him.
He ignored the whispers of war spreading through the crowds of shopping civilians. Cocky shinobi thought civilians were stupid, and couldn't understand or see the signs as well as shinobi could. Their conversations indicated otherwise, but the shinobi would never see that. For all the good shinobi were, the civilians knew that if war came, they were on their own. For that, they blamed his father for letting them down. Letting them down like all the other shinobi did for every war that they led the countries into, dragging their families and friends in with them.
Oh they'd hush when the Third or his students were around, but the moment they left the area, the talking and speculation started up again. Sometimes, he'd make himself small, and listen to them. Many knew good sales or things to buy and stock up on weeks before any changes in the economy caused the prices to shoot up. Those were the times he'd have the most supplies and things he could eat that he wouldn't burn. Back to ration bars when things ran out. He was too short to reach the stove, and there was only so much that a stool or chair could help with.
One time he had created a clone and tried sitting on his shoulders. He learned very quickly not to do that again. He woke up in bed with a bandage around his head, the item tucked away under his pillow and a member of anbu wondering just why they had to deal with Sakumo Hatake's brat. Their words, not his. Maybe he'd try again after he had the chance to learn the shadow clone jutsu.
Creating a henge worked for meals that didn't take too long to cook, but it didn't work on days he trained. Those days, he'd be too tired, and too low on chakra to hold the transformation for more than a few minutes. He frequently burned his food; he wasn't trying to burn his house down though.
He trudged back home with a bag of cleaning supplies in his hand, and words stuck in his throat. Little comments and thoughts he had, but couldn't bring himself to say behind the mask covering his face.
All the while, unknown to him, wide green eyes belonging to a ball of blue fur watched him from the shadows. Eyes full of tears, because once again, Kakashi Hatake rejected its gift.
