against the tide - chapter 2

In his past life, he'd been called many things.

Foundling.

Brat. Shrimp.

Orphan kid.

Queer.

Then, the most persistent one: genius.

That followed him. Even when he stood on stage to graduate a few years ahead, when he was an intern, when he was a doctor a few years younger than the norm- he was known as a genius.

Natsuo wouldn't call himself a genius. In his past life, he didn't consider himself one, but everyone else had.

Now, as green chakra sputters to life around his palms, those words follow him yet again. This time, much earlier than his last.

Although it hadn't been his priority, all Natsuo could do as an infant was really just to think. All the way from when he was newly born, he just contemplated about the Naruto universe and the future- more specifically: his future.

He'd always had that idle fantasy of striking it rich and famous and there was so much he could do, being this early on in the storyline, but…

But Natsuo didn't even know whether or not he could survive this.

Uzushio was set for destruction. That was his primary concern.

The Second Shinobi War hasn't started… yet. The saving grace was his near superb memory of canon: not only had he watched the series a few times and read the manga in depth, he'd also read an exorbitant amount of fanfiction that pretty much cemented irrelevant yet crucial details, as well as plot holes, in his head.

There were many routes he could take. There were less routes that were plausible.

Most importantly: he had absolutely no desire to conform to Kishimoto's plot.

Although his primary priority would be to become strong enough to survive (and live comfortably), he also wanted to save Kushina, and- all his people. He couldn't sit with the knowledge of incoming genocide, and fatalism was never a mindset he'd ever gone close to adopting.

Thus, Natsuo 100% had the intention of drastically overhauling the original plot.

Realistically, he thought: 'It shouldn't be too hard.'

The cards in his hand were all trumps. A functioning body, his memory intact, and the Uzumaki blood was already plenty. His eye was something he could learn to exploit later. (You never run without learning how to walk first. Now, he could only crawl.)

The only bad hand he'd been dealt was really the fact that his hometown was marked for demolition, and worse yet: he knew nearly nothing about it.

But at least for everything else, he was planning on rewriting it. The unjust deaths, the unused characters, exploiting the power system…

He knew human development inside and out. He'd seen people with all sorts of body types. He knew just how hard he could- and had to- push this new body of his, even as an infant.

So, chakra, of course, was perhaps the easiest thing he's ever attempted to control. He always found steeper learning curves straightforward to navigate: Natsuo was a fast learner, even if one was to ignore the fact that he had the memories of someone much older.

Manifesting chakra was simple. Commanding it didn't take a lot out of him.

Natsuo didn't consider himself a genius. If anyone was in his position, they could do the same, although initially he'd been wary of reactions from others especially after that meeting with Mito and her sudden unexpected death. (There was no medical justification citing Natsuo as the reason for it, but he couldn't help but feel like he'd done something to cause it.)

But… nothing really happened. No one commented on his eyes and paid more attention to the cutesy baby façade he donned rather than his abnormal developments. In fact, his parents didn't even seem as surprised by his accomplishment than he'd expected: in the past era, it seems, figures like Kakashi were more common than ever. Things like prowess weren't ever up for speculation. Talent wasn't questioned, because after the First Shinobi War, they didn't have the room for that.

They never looked a gift horse in the mouth, but they also never valued talent or potential too much because war can always smother the brightest of lights: talent doesn't save you from death.

That made things easier for Natsuo because he had no plans to lay dormant until he was grown. He did everything from moving around prematurely to communicating nonverbally to his parents and they never treated him any differently other than to accommodate for his advancement.

Chakra was interesting, so it wasn't a chore for him to fiddle with the unfamiliar, yet everpresent sensation of it. No matter how many fanfictions he'd read of it, feeling it himself was something completely different.

It didn't feel foreign from him, nor did it feel invisible. It was like how, after learning about human's bodily systems, he was vaguely aware of their presence within him. In a strange and disturbing way.

It was a little like that, but more tangible and connected to his mind. He could let it pool where he wanted it to pool. He could feel it heat up or tide over. He could feel it prick at his skin and take flight within him.

Natsuo almost felt… fond of it. His chakra. It was lively and invigorating.

He never moulded signs, nor did his parents ever teach him them, but he realised: he didn't need them. Signs were used to manipulate chakra more precisely, without cutting corners, but they were only really necessary for those complex jutsu, like the water dragon or whatever.

To incapacitate or to kill… That sort of thing was painfully simple. He knew best.

People could die from an unlucky fall. People can kill without a weapon. Natsuo didn't need a glorious water dragon or something like Sasuke's Kirin (although they're all impressive in their own right and he definitely wants to learn it); he didn't get distracted by the wonders of chakra, despite how magical it was to him: to survive in this world, he needed to start small, but strong.

Something like a chakra scalpel.

Then Natsuo paused again, because he had gotten ahead of himself. He was a doctor. And this was an undeveloped world with little to no knowledge of modern medicine.

There was so much he could revolutionise in the medical field alone: that was his safest and most logical beginning point.

And his parents had never questioned Natsuo when he'd grabbed onto a scroll about medical chakra which he'd seen in the Uzushio town square open markets.

"I think it's a sign, dear." His mother had cheered so proudly. "Our baby will become a medic! Isn't that wonderful?"

"A medic… Natsuo wants to help others, hey? I mean, he's such a gentle child, so I'm not surprised." His father was always tender. Kind. Supportive.

"I couldn't be prouder of my boy."

Natsuo had already forgotten the sound of his father's voice.

-Eight months old-

It had occurred all too quickly. The salt of the air was replaced by metallic blood. The distant rush of the ocean was replaced by muted sounds of scuffles.

Natsuo had lived on the Eastern border of Uzushio and that line of defence had been breached. He could guestimate that he and his mother had escaped to a Northward tunnel, but the underground shelter they'd been ushered into cannot sustain them. It had been obvious within the first few days, yet no infighting had occurred. The residents of Uzushio were just like that.

The first wave begun a month ago. That was when his father had died.

It should've ended in less than a few days, but there came more and more attacks with barely the time to breathe between each-

This morning, there was another one.

Natsuo could admit to helplessness. He had to accept that there was no conceivable way for him to avoid this or aid in this. In the first place, he had no idea when Uzushio's downfall would take place: he'd just hoped that it wouldn't be this early.

Helping physically was out of question.

Even though he could speak… decently now, he knew nothing of the situation to offer any sort of useful knowledge. He didn't even know how long it took for the conflict to end, nor who was attacking them, save for the curses directed to Kiri and Iwa- and eventually, to Konoha.

("Now that Mito-sama died and they have the Kyuubi Jinchuuriki, they don't give two shits about us, do they-")

("Difficult situation, my ass! They're full of bullshit-")

They cursed Konoha. Hashirama's legacy, they called it with disappointment. Hashirama's failed legacy.

Konoha was probably attempting to dissuade another Shinobi War. Like always, like they'll always be- They're too soft. They're pathetic.

Kiri's attack on a sister Village should be enough as a declaration of war, yet they were still unwilling to take a strong stance on Uzushio's side. It must be Sarutobi as Hokage right now. Tobirama would never have let this happen, but he must already be dead.

This reminded him of the Hyuuga incident, occurring many years in the future: Sarutobi was hypocritically and damagingly nice in a way a military dictator absolutely shouldn't be. It was self-sabotaging: sacrificing his own people for a weak attempt at peace.

But Natsuo couldn't do anything about all this.

He could only coax his mother into eating and circulate remedial chakra within her because that was a thing and Iryo Ninjutsu should've been covered a lot more in canon.

"Miracle child. Natsuo, baby." She whispered into him. "Do you even know what you're doing?"

He did. But he didn't say that. Instead, he smiled a gummy smile and watched the softness return to his mother's hollow eyes.

(She still hasn't said anything about his father's death.)

Natsuo shifted a bit within her grip to scan the faces again. There were less and less people each day as some braved to head out and scout for food. He recognises a few of them and refuses to consider the fate of the ones he couldn't see.

There's another explosion and it was directly above them, shaking dirt from the ceiling. It must be an aerial attack for it to be so deep within Uzushio's territory.

The children are sniffling, but by children, he meant those below the age of around three: even the four year olds have a hardened look of bravado on their faces.

But everything was beyond the boundaries of his control, so he focused and narrowed his world down to what he could do and let his chakra stir within him.

-Nineteen month old-

There's a temporary recess as a higher up in the Land of Water was assassinated.

Natsuo sees the surface of Uzushio for what felt like ages. It's spine-chilling. Crumbling buildings, splattered blood, remains of the deceased… There's hardly anything to retrieve from the debris, but the sour taste of terror.

His mother has an iron grip on his hand as he wandered further in to see the base of the shinobi, where the civilians had almost immediately flocked towards.

"Natsuo," She murmured. "There are the injured there. It'll be scary."

Scarier than the never-ending rumble of conflict? Scarier than a landmark he'd seen since birth toppled over and bloodstained? Scarier than knowing that this long battle will end in annihilation?

"I wan' help too." Natsuo said plainly. Somehow. Somehow. There had to be some way he could help. It was hard to accept it. It was hard to even think about it.

It was hard to think that this place he was born into, where his parents were raised in, where his home was meant to be- Uzushio was just, so simply, lost like this? That such a beautiful, powerful nation would be erased… just like that?

It felt impossible. If he didn't know that, Natsuo would've believed they could win. Somehow. They've lasted so long. They've fought so hard, so surely…

"I know you're talented, honey." She knelt down beside him and brushed his overgrown hair back to peer into his eyes. Her chakra settled over his strange eye, refreshing the Genjutsu over it. "But it's very dangerous. I don't want you to get hurt."

"But Kaa-san's wiv me." He smiled like he was ignorant, like he didn't feel sick to the stomach thinking about the fate of this land. He let his mouth untense and let the childish lisp touch his words. "Kaa-san will pwuh-tect me. I wan' go, pwease? Iss important."

It takes him willpower to not grimace at himself.

The caution in her face melted and her gaze softened. "Only for a short while…"

There is no shortage of injured soldiers. If anything, Natsuo was surprised that they lasted this long against two Hidden Villages at a major disadvantage. Their vaunted vitality was no joke.

Anyhow, it was lucky that there was a respite given at this time. Most, if not all, citizens of Uzushio were proficient with chakra or some passive skill. Many who were in the same shelter as he was knew how to use Iryo Ninjutsu, or how to write seals, or how to sense with chakra.

(They had taught the children as well, in quiet words and fingers tracing on palms. Natsuo had listened and let them guide the green glow on his hands.)

"Are you alright, Natsuo?" His mother asked. "It's a bit crowded here as well. Shall we…?"

"It's 'kay." He said, a bit stubbornly. "I can stay." Despite the association he had with Uzumakis and loudness, there was only a tempered murmuring here.

She smiled faintly then glanced at what he was staring at. "They're doing chakra transferrals."

"Transferwals?" He echoed in confusion. Natsuo remembered it existed within the series, with Tsunade's summon and all, but he didn't realise how prevalent it was. "Everyone can do?"

"No citizen of Uzushio is without abundant chakra. It only makes sense to." His mother explained. "It's taught in school or between parents and children…"

"Can you do, Kaa-san?"

"Of course." She stroked his head. "I've never needed to teach it to you though. You already knew how to do it, didn't you?"

And she was a sensor. Natsuo knew that and knew that she knew he was almost always training his chakra.

"I wan' help them." Natsuo said again.

"How will you help them, sweetheart?" Her eyes glimmer, like she's sad or proud or maybe even both.

His mother watched him as he entered the fray.

That's when that title erupted again.

Genius.

The child who could set bones and tie bandages wider than his hand. The child who could stitch wounds with more agility and precision than he should. The child who could stare unaffected at gangrene and oozing pus and clench a wrapped shuriken between his tiny fingers like it was a surgical scalpel.

The child whose focus did not falter for the entire few hours he spent there, inspecting each and every unattended shinobi like his life depended on it. The child who had unwavering eyes, unsettling, bright, uneven eyes which seemed to penetrate through skin.

The child who confidently, immovably and daringly pointed out-

"You're lying." Between chubby cheeks. "If you exert yourself any time in the next week, you'll have an astwonomical chance of dying and it won't even be the enemy's fault. It'll be yours."

("'Astwonomical'." Another shinobi chortled. "Can I keep you?")

…Anyway, Natsuo knew that he would have no real answer to give if his mother asked him about his capabilities, but she never asked and instead embraced him and called him 'lovely'.

"My lovely and kind child." She said after he returned to her. She'd stayed in that spot, watching him quietly. "Your father would be so proud."

Natsuo's chest ached.

It had only been two weeks before attacks hit again.

Only this time, they aimed for the civilian shelter.

And as luck would have it: it was the shelter Natsuo was in.