It was a warm summer night in Uzushio when the nameless Elder died.

The moon was stark white against the velvet sky. That, I remember well, even years after.

I did not know the woman well. She had been pleasant enough, and all too willing to offer me, as well as any other child, sweets when our parents weren't looking. And she was kind, but remote, in the same way an island could be.

She was said to have known a great many things, yet she had apparently never taken a student. Even when the most promising shinobi Uzushio had ever seen asked her formally, she always refused. As though the world would end if she were willing to teach some secrets to a young boy.

The nameless Elder died on a warm summer night, and I can't say I truly knew the woman with the golden eyes.

少

年

3 — THE BOY WHO WANTED TO BE A SEALWEAVER

TWO DAYS AFTER the nameless woman was buried near the Great Tree, Naruto had mostly forgotten about the event.

People died, that was the way of the world, or so his mother said. Several people he knew had died, already. Old Daichi, Fumiko and Souta.

And although he was sad that the old woman was gone, it didn't mean he particularly enjoyed standing in the sun in ceremonial gear for hours, waiting for the rites to be over. They didn't mean much, they didn't make her any less dead. But he supposed that these things were for the sake of the living, rather than for the dead.

Besides, he was Uzumaki before anything else. He could take it. And there were only so many of them on the Heavenly Island, so these things were important.

There had been more Uzumaki before, and there were more of them throughout the land, too. But those were Earthbound, clansmen who had renounced their right to live in the skies to dwell down on the Elemental Nations.

And then there were the elite clan members, too. Those who stood at the top of their society, and had earned themselves the privilege of traveling between the floating island and the land.

Nearly all of them were Sealweavers. Given their stature, perhaps it was unsurprising that he had begun dreaming of becoming one, lately.

On the day the Elder was laid to rest, Naruto remembered her subtle (and not so subtle) hints about his potential affinity for the Art. Coupled with his mother's tales of his father, and his own interest in the subject, it was then that he decided to truly try and become a Sealweaver.

There were others who had been granted the privilege of free traversal between the floating island and the land below. People who were not true, full Sealweavers, but could venture outside. These individuals were often even stronger, more remarkable for it.

Naruto's mother had been one of them, once. That was how she met his father, of course, but that was before her health made it difficult for her to perform at the rigorous standard of performance that was expected of them.

It took more than this to keep Uzumaki Kushina down, of course. If she couldn't fight on land, she would fight in the skies, and if she couldn't fight in the skies, she would find a way to fight in the seas.

Her spirit was indomitable, her hair billowed like flames and her voice could carry over waves.

But the difficult days were difficult for anyone, and even Uzumaki Kushina could sometimes let them get to her.

Naruto's father was an outsider, if this wasn't clear enough already. A man with hair that was called 'blond,' but was closer to bright yellow, really. It wasn't common at all in Uzushio — there was no one, in fact. In any case, Namikaze Minato — they had never married, if they had, she would have had to leave the islands — was a figure that was seemingly carved out of legend.

The man was a tower of strength, and his smile, just as Naruto's mother's, was enough to light up a room: it was like the sun piercing through the clouds on a stormy day. His father was his personal hero — a man born to poor fishermen, whose very existence was an act of defiance against the ordinary. Proof that anyone could set out to do the impossible, and manage. And if anyone could have made his mother smile on these cloudy gray days, it would have been him.

That was how Naruto liked to remember him.

Aside from a few pitying looks, growing up in Uzushio provided a happy childhood.

The islands were, of course, shaped like a spiral. If you squinted hard enough and made yourself believe it, that was.

These islands floated gracefully, usually above the sea, hidden by clouds, and connected to each other by bridges that sometimes seemed to dance with the wind. Each island was a self-sustaining haven, with lush gardens, clear springs, and vibrant communities. Nearly all of the buildings were made out of something that seemed to be white marble, but wasn't.

The secret of how to make the material in the first place was something Naruto never became privy to. This was the sort of thing that the nameless Elder had known, likely. Most islands were large enough to support a small residential quarter. Though the sum of them was called Uzushio, Naruto and his mother lived on Amenogawa Isle.

Uzushio at sunrise, even years later, was one of the most beautiful scenes Naruto could remember. That wasn't to say the evenings were lacking, and Naruto spent many of them sitting on their porch, a cup of a warm drink in hand, looking out over the sea of clouds rolling down below.

The central island, which some people — who happened to be wrong — considered the heart of Uzushiogakure, was where the village's red whirlpool symbol proudly stood.

Towering structures of ancient architecture, the last remnants of a time the village had still lay beside the sea, were surrounded by tranquil gardens, where people could meditate. The Great Library and its spiraled dome sat at the center.

Surrounding it were residential isles. Homes were built with harmony in mind, with rooftops covered in blooming flowers that cascaded down like waterfalls.

Further out, the agricultural islands flourished. Terraced fields, carved into the hillsides, grew an abundance of crops, nourished by ingenious irrigation systems that Naruto did not understand yet. Orchards bore fruit that glistened like jewels under the sun, while lush greenhouses nurtured herbs and medicinal plants. Near the edge of the islands, fishermen's docks perched. On designated days, they glided into the sea below to harvest the ocean's bounty. Then, when they were done, were pulled up again. Of course.

The training grounds were on a sturdier, more secluded island. Here, young warriors in training honed their skills in between ancient ruins, on top of rugged terrain. Nearby, waterfalls, that were not the flowery sort this time, cascaded into serene pools, perfect for water-based jutsu practice. The open fields awaited those perfecting their taijutsu.

On two of the smallest islands, scattered like satellite spirals around the main one, were the sacred groves and temples. These were places of quiet reflection. Of deep spiritual connection — rumor said that the whispers of the past could be heard in the rustling leaves. But that was something Life-Spirit adepts said, and no small amount of them were rather... peculiar. They were not the only ones, in any case: Elders often recounted tales of the greatness of the Uzumaki clan, voices full of pride.

At night, the islands seemed to float even higher. Higher and higher, until the world was bathed in ethereal moonlight. Lanterns glowed softly, casting a gentle warmth over the cobblestone paths. The sea below mirrored the starry sky, and it was a place suspended between two infinities.

Yes. Growing up in Uzushio provided a happy childhood.

His mother would read him the tales of old folklore that he was soon too old to fully believe in. Still, if nothing else, the stories of ancient gods in the forms of oil, foxes, and rabbits instilled in him a love for the texture of words. Tracing his finger over the inky lines and symbols when he was too young to understand them, Naruto developed an appreciation for calligraphy that would serve him well in the future.

His mother, cunning as one of these mythical foxes, was subtly teaching him all along — a fact Naruto only recognized much later. His father, on the few occasions he saw him as a child, back when Uzumaki Kushina still possessed the political clout to strong-arm the Uzukage into allowing her to leave the islands with a child, when it was strictly forbidden... Well, his father never seemed to be as devious.

But then again, it was hard to remain unbiased, when he had seen one of them much more often than the other. And you could never truly know a person that only existed as a dream.

Naruto was about as curious as he was reckless: questions came out of him about as quickly as new, creative ways to endanger himself.

And when at nine years old he decided that he loved Uzushio but still wanted to see the outside world and his dad because the latter wasn't allowed in, his mother cautioned him not to make this sort of statement out loud next time, maybe.

She also called in a favor with Uzumaki Noboru, who soon became Naruto's private teacher, on top of the regular classes.

Although the man sternly reminded Naruto that Uzushio's foreign policy was a result of the Great War, and that their clan only lived through the event thanks to the Second Hokage's swift intervention, and that they still shared a strong bond with Konoha to this day, who respected their isolation, as well as a great many other things that Naruto didn't remember to this day, he also taught him a lot about seals, cursed marks and jutsu shiki. Those, he remembered.

All of them, in fact. The principles, for one, were near impossible to forget. And whenever he recalled any of them, they came to him in Noboru's droning voice:

"Principle of Chakra Resonance. This principle asserts that a seal's effectiveness is intrinsically linked to its resonance with the target's chakra nature. Sealing practitioners must understand and harness this resonance to craft seals that are harmonious and effective for their specific purpose."

Which made Noboru his first true teacher, a privilege the man probably didn't see as one, considering latter events. It came from a good place, however.

"Noboru-sensei is a grumpy old man who thinks he knows everything." Naruto declared after the first lesson.

His mother bopped him on the head — in this case, it meant it was the sort of thing he was allowed to think, but not say out loud, he thought. "He's thirty-three."

Naruto beamed. "That's right! And he's grumpy and thinks he knows everything."

"How old do you think I am, exactly?" She asked, unimpressed.

Naruto calculated it quickly and instantly knew that truth was a very relative thing. "…It's a different thirty-three with you." He said sweetly.

His mother grinned at him. "That's a good boy."

"Right." Naruto smiled, too. "So we can have ramen tonight?"

His mother laughed. "No."

He made a face. "What's the point, then?"

She shrugged. "In being good? Beats me, I never was good at the whole ethics thing — that was more Mi—" Her smile dimmed a bit, and the reason why was clear to Naruto. "Never my thing, I mean."

Naruto glanced down at some of the clouds in the distance, under the Mirror Island, that they were on. "…He did teach me some useful things." He said, trying to find some subject that was a bit less sensitive.

"See?" Kushina grinned. "Much better than regular school, right?"

He smiled too, and it was a quick and relieved thing. "Anything is better than normal school."

They did learn interesting things there, too, but it was far and between, focusing too much on things like mathematics and plants and fishing and sustainability and the importance of community, and what the difference in atmospheric conditions meant for people. The physical education class was great, however.

There was no teacher that was more suited to deal with young, full of energy Uzumaki than another Uzumaki, of course.

But the era when Uzushio thrived as a bustling shinobi village was gone, submerged in the sea along with half of its former population.

Most of them had been their strongest warriors of the time, too. Only the best of the best were suited to truly wage battle with the Sealing Arts. And aside from setting seal-traps, the rest of them had died doing things the usual ninja way: spitting water, fire, stabbing things…

Well. That was another story altogether.

It was worth noting that generally, sealing, in the broader sense, oftentimes included jutsu shiki and cursed marks — only the most meticulous ('anal-retentive,' according to Naruto's mother) of Uzumaki truly made a distinction between Fūinjutsu (the sealing and unsealing of things) and Fūinjutsu (all of the arts that used the same symbols and methodologies for a variety of effects).

Naruto, these days, readily admitted that he could sometimes be one of these people his mother had defined as 'the sort of nerd no one liked.'

To the trained eye, the differences between the two were clear, however: one was the art of containment and release, while the other spanned a wider spectrum of capabilities, from offensive to defensive, from control to enhancement, and much more. But Uzushio wasn't exactly at the height of its power anymore, a lot of knowledge had been lost to the survivors, and the rebuilding efforts had supposedly been led by the woman with golden eyes, decades ago. Making a clear distinction between arts that were technically ('akshually,' to his mother) not the same was not the utmost priority.

They did just fine, however: Uzumaki were nothing if not tenacious — 'like red-antenna-sporting roaches.'

"Noboru-sensei said that martial use of Fūinjutsu — which usually means it is paired with ninjutsu or genjutsu — was all about restriction." Naruto said. "Restriction of movement, restriction of power, or even restriction of will. That the essence of it lay—"

"Lies." His mother said.

Naruto frowned. "I don't trust him either — You're right. A shinobi should—"

"No." She laughed. "That the essence of it lies. I was correcting you."

"Ah." A grumble that may have sounded like an embarrassed 'thanks' escaped him. "That the essence of it lay in control, in imposing limits within which chaos is contained."

"Right. Did you understand that?"

"Of course." He grinned. "Only Kazuo wouldn't, really."

"Please do not mock him." She chided him. "Although he is a bit of an ass—…inine one."

Naruto frowned. "How is this any better than what you wanted to say…? It's even more insulting."

"I have to at least pretend to be a good role-model." She said. "Do go on, though."

"You are the best, though. And he is mean." Naruto nodded. "So, anyway, sealing is more or less about stopping things or holding them. Sometimes both. It's kinda like magic, too. It can stop someone from moving, stop their special abilities, or even stop them from doing what they want. Ah, it's important to make sure things don't get too crazy by setting up rules about what they can't do."

She gave him an amused look. "That's not the worst explanation I've heard from you. Sealing is not magic, though."

"It's not…?"

He cocked his head, mimicking the curious, thoughtful pose he'd often seen his father adopt.

His mother paused, a decision settling in her eyes. "Never mind." Then, a genuine smile broke through, one that Naruto, as a child, decided emerged because of all the wrong reasons. "It really is."

Naruto nodded, not seeing any point in pretending otherwise.

Of course, he knew such things already, even then. Even before the lessons with Noboru. No Uzumaki — the ones from Uzushio, at least — ever went through life without knowing some things about seals. No matter whether their affinity was for Sealweaving, Chakra Conduit or Life-Spirit.

And, since the point of this tale is to stay as close to the truth as a story permits, Naruto could readily admit that the primary reason for his interest in learning Sealweaving back then, aside from thinking it was 'pretty cool,' was not truly about aiding Uzushio's logistical, fishing, or farming efforts. Nor was it to win the favor of the Uzukage of that time, to travel the world in search of his lost father. Not entirely, at least.

No, underneath it all was a simple desire to see his mother smile.

Noboru-sensei was not the first Sealweaver Naruto had ever met.

No, that badge of honor was only his dad's to wear. And yes, perhaps Namikaze Minato had never obtained the title, nor stepped atop the Uzushiogakure islands, being a foreigner… but all that mattered to Naruto was his mother's opinion on that subject.

His mother, who did dabble with Sealweaving, had a stronger affinity for Chakra Conduit, and a minor one for the Life-Spirit branch.

So perhaps, in retrospect, it was no wonder that the verdict that came tasted like ash on his tongue.

"How many times do you want me to say it?" Noboru asked, his patience slowly wearing thin. "Your main affinity is for Chakra Conduit, not Sealweaving. There will be things you simply will never be able to do. That is not to say—"

"B-But…" Naruto mumbled. "My dad…"

Noboru sighed, not without some compassion, although Naruto did not realize it then. No, back then, he read it as disdain. "Your father…was many things, certainly. An Uzumaki he was not." He began, and saw the look in Naruto's eyes. "That he managed to get as far with the art as he did, in spite of it, speaks volumes of his skill. However, he was the exception, not the rule. For most with no affinity, it is wiser to—"

"Mom said he was pretty bad at elemental jutsu." Naruto tried to argue, once more. "And that—"

"Whether or not his affinity would have been Sealweaving is a moot point, Naruto."

"It's not!" Naruto insisted vehemently, hot anger bubbling in his gut. "When he comes back—"

"Naruto…" Noboru said, with a weary expression. "Namikaze Minato is dead. The sooner you accept this, the sooner—"

He heard nothing else. Noboru's voice droned on, but Naruto couldn't grasp a single word. His head felt too light, and his body too distant, and so he didn't manage to listen.

He wasn't entirely disconnected, however. There were harsh retorts on Naruto's mind, and he would have liked to say that he held back from saying them because his mother had put a lot of effort into getting him these lessons.

Because at this point of the tale, Naruto was, for the first but not the last time, tempted to lie. To claim that he took his teacher's words with the grace befitting a destined hero. That he would work with what he already considered a crippling vulnerability. That already, he had hastily mended the shattered remnants of his grief-stricken heart. That he truly believed his own words, even.

But the truth rarely was as pretty. In the end, he was the one to decide to prove Noboru wrong, no matter what it took. Only him.

His temper burned like molten lead. At the perceived slight. At himself, for not telling Noboru just what he believed his opinion on Namikaze Minato was worth. At his father, for taking so long to come back, but nothing else, because that meant horrible things. At the indifferent sky above, the cruel sea below.

Naruto said nothing, and his temper raged within him, scorching him all the way back to Amenogawa Isle. It smoldered as he slammed the door of the house he shared with his mother behind him.

It took a while for the heat of his anger to dissipate. The sheet of paper still stared at him, and the same damning words were still written in the same perfect script: Chakra Conduit. In a moment of rare overt anger, he struck his desk. His fist was bloody, but the wood merely trembled.

"He's not…" Naruto said tightly, gripping his damaged hand, and couldn't bring himself to even say the word. He thought of pity, that horrible thing he saw in Noboru's eyes, in others' eyes. "He's not."

Denial, it turned out, was a Sealweaver's oldest companion.

lensdump

i/4TAUdM : A Distant Dream

AN: Ah... I did it again. But only because I'm leaving for the week-end!