I've seen the way you look at me, Hanabi. There is no need for it.

Things were as they were at that time. I buried my head in the snow, unable to free myself. My mother minimized the ordeal, and I, too, tried to convince myself it was nothing — until denial was no longer an option.

During the heart of winter and the following spring, I came to learn a few lessons.

縛

り

5 — BINDINGS

NARUTO STAYED ALONE in the training grounds in the evening, long after his fellow students, those who had an affinity for Sealweaving, had left.

Of course they would.

People loved to believe children to be carefree little humans, who went about their days with a sunny disposition. It didn't feel particularly true to Naruto, even back then, but perhaps that was just more proof that something was wrong with him in the first place.

His brow was furrowed in concentration, in frustration. The sun was setting, and it cast long shadows across the field. He raised his right hand, chakra flowing to the seal, attempting to direct the flow of it in the required patterns…

Today especially, it felt like trying to hold onto smoke. Elusive, intangible, and frustratingly out of reach. Slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.

He gritted his teeth, kept his mind firmly in Lake Mind, palms now facing the sky. He took a deep breath, which did little to quell the storm inside—

There was a sharp crack. His world erupted with it. The next instant, he was on his back, staring at the evening clouds, who seemed indifferent to his plight. As ever.

His face, however, felt as though it was on fire. For a moment, time itself seemed suspended, his senses numbed, his mind blank. He said nothing. He didn't feel anything. He didn't feel anything.

An involuntary cry of frustration broke the silence as his fist pounded the earth.

This is not supposed to be this hard. That's why you're the only one left.

Naruto lay there, his breaths coming in uneven gasps, struggling to tame the wild rhythm of his heart. This was just a setback, he told himself, it was not the end of the world. What did it matter if he couldn't manage in one week what the others had managed in just one day? He forced a small grin, even though no one was here to see it. Time meant nothing. He would just practice some more, until his hands were raw and burnt from one more broken, shitty seal. And if that wasn't enough, then he would… then he would study even harder. He would read everything there was to read until it all made sense.

Until he could—

There were other arts to learn, besides. Taijutsu. Taijutsu was fine. He was good at that. Ninjutsu. He had a fair amount of talent for that, didn't he? The test did say so. And Kenjutsu didn't need a practitioner to have an affinity for stupid Sealweaving, did it…?

All these rationalizations felt hollow tonight.

No one could help his mother here, not even with the best healing sealing matrices in the world. None of these skills would bring him any closer to a solution. None of the other arts would bring him any closer to his father. Nor could they enable him to leave the islands with Yasaka to search for a cure. Not with his talent, which he deemed meager. The only likely way out, to him, seemed to become a Sealweaver. As ever. He felt trapped, stuck here. Nothing appeared to be enough to pave his way out. And becoming Earthbound was not an option to his mother.

To her, there was something out there, Naruto realized it. At first, he had thought it was because of her illness, and the subsequent anxiety that slowly grew in her. Perhaps even resentment for a world she could not be a part of anymore. He came to realize it was more than this: his mother clung to Uzushio as if there were terrible shadows lurking beyond it, and some days, it felt like an invisible chain was binding them to this place.

He loved Uzushio. But he felt a growing urge to escape. His mother was aware of this, and she might even have shared his sentiments, once. Sometimes, when he was alone, he could admit that his love for the place morphed into resentment. Everything felt like a reminder of his stagnant state. Of her slow decay.

Naruto was not Yasaka. He was not his father. And he did not think he possessed the resilience of his mother, who could mask her own despair with a facade of optimism, as she insisted on a recovery that seemed increasingly distant. He had already endured the loss of one parent; the thought of losing his mother was unbearable.

Why were his hands shaking?

A single hot tear betrayed him, carving a path down his cheek. "Not now." He whispered to himself, a silent reprimand for a weakness he couldn't afford. He was no longer a child. And still, the tears came, unbidden.

They tasted of defeat, a bitter flavor mingling with the salt of his grief.

Naruto meandered past one of Uzushio's three bars on his way home, and just walking took a lot from him.

Contrary to popular belief, Uzumaki didn't spend their free time summoning demons, trapping gods and spirits inside bottles. Most of the time, a few notable exceptions notwithstanding, they just lived regular lives. Rather boring ones, even, and this was only compounded by the fact they lived in willing seclusion.

A few were plagued by very usual demons, even, much like any other remote village. Those were the sort of demons one could truly find in a bottle.

The window was open, and no soundproofing domain had been set up. Naruto glanced inside, disinterested. Taichi carried a barrel across the room, and Kei, with practiced ease, filled mugs from his homemade brew. The fireplace crackled, a solitary dance of flames entertaining a small gathering of men, none of whom took notice of Naruto's fleeting gaze.

Closer and facing away from him, two men fell engaged in hushed conversation.

"Have you heard?" One asked. Naruto thought it might be Akio, the blacksmith from Tsukishima, although it was hard to tell from his back. "The Hokage has dispatched Tenjin to the East."

The other man turned around slightly, and Naruto didn't recognize his face. "…To the East? The coast, you mean?"

Akio, if it was him, nodded. "That he did."

"How do you know that?"

"Naho told me."

"Ah, his cousin, of course." He said, taking a long sip of his drink. "How is she?"

'Akio' snorted. "Naho is fine. You could just cross the bridge and ask her yourself."

"Eh. I don't think she'd — That's not really important." The other said, shrugging. He turned to face Akio again. "What you said, however… Why would the Hokage send his reserve sealmaster out of the village? And to this… graveyard, no less."

'Akio' shrugged. "Konoha will never admit how bad things are there, anyway. Better for them to put on their strong face. Besides, I suppose Mito-sama is more than enough for a village."

"That's not what I mean." The other shook his head. "Although I suppose she is rather fond of the Hokage, even after that whole debacle, but…"

He marked a long pause, and there was something tense in his voice.

Akio glanced at the other man, allowing Naruto to confirm his identity. "Ah." He said in weary realization. "Your son is nearing that age, isn't he?"

The other man just nodded. "He is." He said quietly.

Akio said nothing for a long while. "…I don't think you should worry too much about him being selected, for now."

"Easy for you to say. You have no children."

"That's not what I meant." Akio said, shaking his head. He forced a laugh. "There... there are plenty of other talented children. I've heard that Itsuki shows great promise, when it comes to sealing, for one. Besides… Tenjin is as strong as any other master Sealweaver." He nodded to himself. "And he's always been a crafty little bugger. If anyone can figure out what the hell's going on out there, and come back alive, it has to be him."

The other man didn't quite seem to believe it, however. His disbelief was thinly veiled, if that.

The conversation stayed on Naruto's mind as he resumed his walk home. He smiled at the people he passed by, and answered their questions if they had any, but his heart, too, was elsewhere.

There, far beyond the horizons, in mysterious, dangerous places, along with a tentative thing he called hope. Something that felt close enough to touch.

Uzushio's winter matsuri was a beautiful spectacle.

Winter, of course, meant the months they spent hovering over the coldest regions of the world — there was a periodicity to these things, as for anything else. To contrast this relative coldness, the village came alive with a warm vibrancy that seemed to linger through the crisp air.

Lanterns bearing the clan's spiral symbol adorned the pathways, casting a gentle glow. Their light shimmered on the village's natural waterways in a dance of light, shadow, and reflection. The stalls were vibrant with colorful banners, and people offered an array of traditional goods: exquisitely crafted seals, fine textiles, and delicacies from the last region the islands had passed. Each scent mingled in the air, and felt like an invitation to indulge.

The first part of the evening, he spent together with friends. There was the young Daichi, who seemed to have boundless energy and a mischievous grin. Yumi, whose laughter was as bright as the lanterns above, and much louder. Shun was the thoughtful one, and he always had kind words to offer to all. Little Hina had wide eyes which seemed to become even larger when she was excited. Together, they ran through the lantern-lit pathways until it was time for them to go to their families.

Naruto bowed before passing underneath the torii gate. At the heart of the festival stood a grand sculpture. It was not made of ice but of delicate paper. It glowed ethereally in the square, like a waning blue fox-fire. Nearby, a real bonfire crackled, and Uzushio's people gathered around it to share stories, to enjoy the warmth it provided against the cool night.

Music filled the air, a harmony of traditional shamisen, the rhythmic beat of taiko drums, and the lilting melodies of bamboo flutes. Echoing the ones Naruto's mother once played. It was a symphony that blended with the laughter and voices of the festival-goers. A lively atmosphere that felt like Uzushio's heartbeat.

Children dressed in bright kimono reveled in the festival's joy. They chased each other, played games, flew kites, and popped firecrackers. Adults swayed in dance, drank, chatted, and watched the performances. Naruto, Yasaka and Kushina embraced each celebratory tradition with equal enthusiasm.

The night above Uzushio burst into a kaleidoscope of colors, each explosion mirroring off the white marble of its buildings; a mesmerizing spectacle of light and sound. A show that paid homage to the enduring, spirited soul of the village.

In this sort of moment, it was slightly harder for Naruto to remember why he wanted to leave in the first place.

Kushina turned to Naruto and Yasaka, a soft smile playing on her lips. As though she had known where his thoughts were. And there was nostalgia, as well as something deeper in her eyes, which went unspoken. "We used to have snow, before."

Yasaka, leaning casually against a stall, looked up at the sky, thoughtful. "It's pretty amazing, with or without it."

She was too young to have seen it in Uzushio. And Naruto had never seen snow that wasn't a picture in a book, a distant mountaintop, or a memory displayed for the class. He stood quietly, his gaze drifting away. To him, it meant a world beyond Uzushio.

His mother's smile fell slightly.

When she broke the silence, Kushina's voice was slightly hesitant, and nearly hopeful. It carried a timbre that Naruto hated to hear. A subtle tremor that, to him at least, spoke of fear. It did not belong in his mother's voice, but it was here all the same.

"Maybe one day…"

Shinobi bore scars that were buried deep under skin. Remnants of past battles and losses that clung to the mind like shadows, twisting their perceptions and reactions in ways that were hard to predict. That was true for even the strongest. Or perhaps especially for the strongest.

It was a force as immovable as water eroding rock, one that could turn certainty into doubt, and bravery into caution.

Fear, it was said, was the silent killer of shinobi. It could turn a scared child into a titan among warriors, certainly. It could just as easily also turn a lioness into a mouse. And it could reshape fate with a simple whisper into the right ear. Sometimes, Naruto would later learn, a mere whisper and a look were all it took to turn the entire world sideways.

"Yeah." Kushina continued. "Maybe one day, we will see snow in Uzushio again. Just like old times."

There was a subtle plea in her tone, an unspoken wish for things to remain as they were.

Naruto turned to her, his eyes conflicted. "Maybe." He said softly. The word felt heavy on his tongue. But… There's so much out there to see. Maybe we could…?

Kushina's smile faltered entirely, a hint of sorrow surfacing. "I know you're curious about the world, Naruto. That it calls out to you." She said, and he knew the next words before she said them. "But doesn't our home call for you louder?"

I need you.

Naruto only nodded wordlessly. What could words do here?

Unable to voice his feelings, he retreated to a nearby spot, feigning interest in the light seals. His ears remained on them, however. And although they might have thought he didn't hear them, from such a distance, they were wrong in that.

Then again, perhaps Yasaka, at least, didn't care about that.

Yasaka, who had watched their exchange silently, carefully. "What if his path leads him beyond here…?"

The silence hung there, between them. Naruto imagined that Kushina stared at Yasaka without saying anything, that there was a hint of disapproval in her eyes.

"…Then that's that." His mother said softly. "It's not an easy world, out there."

"You don't believe you own words." Yasaka's words cut through the festive air with sharp clarity. "You can't tether him here with fear."

Kushina bristled. "Is it fear if it's justified?" Her irritated tone suggested they'd had this discussion before, even though Naruto had not been here to hear it.

The irritation was plain in Yasaka's voice, too. "Save it." She retorted. "Hiding him away for the rest of his life is not going to give him a life worth living."

"Please." Kushina cut her off. "What's your clever solution, here?"

There was a long silence.

"I could take him with me." Yasaka said, and Kushina scoffed. "I can protect him. And he shows a lot of potential, besides."

The wind seemed to pick up a bit, and Naruto had to strain to hear the rest of it.

"…means nothing." Kushina said irritably. Then, she became quieter, her voice tinged with bitterness. "Minato had all the potential in the world. See where that led him."

The mention of Naruto's father hung in the air, unanswered. Yasaka remained silent for a while. Naruto's mind went into other directions. His mother never talked about his father. It wasn't something she did. It was the sort of silence that had always been a quiet presence in their lives…

…Ah.

In that moment, a realization dawned on Naruto. His mother was not afraid of mentioning his father.

No, she was afraid of the effect a mere mention of Minato's name had on Naruto.

Naruto's thoughts drifted, navigating through uncharted waters.

"Is that what you want for Naruto?" Kushina asked. "For him to chase ghosts?"

Naruto's vision seemed to swim for a moment. He stayed where he was, crouched. Still and silent on the grass. He wanted to come back, to say something. But he felt as raw as reused sealing paper; scraped. He stared down at his hands dumbly, and noticed they were shaking.

"Of course not." Yasaka said. "I'd never—"

"Please, don't." Kushina cut her off. "You've never been that good of an actress. You still think there is hope." She became quieter. "…Hope for me."

Naruto's heart picked up its pace again. A wave of faintness washed over him, making him feel detached from his own body, as if he were an observer to his own sensations.

Yasaka's voice seemed to cut through the night as it rose. "There is!"

It was a simple thing, but to hear it out loud, coming from someone who wasn't himself, someone who trusted… Well, it meant a lot to Naruto. His heart quietened some.

A few of the people around Kushina and Yasaka glanced at them, before resuming what they were doing. Naruto continued to stare at nothing.

"…You fear for me." Kushina said apologetically. "You're so strong already, and yet you're afraid of me dying. You're a shinobi, Yasaka, you should—"

"How would you feel if I were the one sick?" Yasaka asked bitterly. Kushina did not answer. "You know it as well as I do — you would tear down the very heavens if there was even a hint of a cure! And yet, you would prevent us from doing the same!"

Kushina likely shook her head. "I am not stopping you." She said softly. "Although I know it is a waste of time."

"It's not." Yasaka said pointedly.

"You won't find Senju Tsunade." Kushina said. "Not even the Hokage knows where she is, these days. It's an impossible quest."

Yasaka's scoff was dismissive. "You know what I think of that word."

"Semantics." Kushina grunted.

There was a light pause. Right after, Naruto could almost hear the grin in Yasaka's voice. "You know I don't know that one."

The silence stretched for a moment.

Then Kushina laughed. That loud and warm laugh of hers brightened the mood, and Naruto felt a tentative smile stretch his own lips. Yasaka could have that effect on people.

"…It's harder than you think it is." Kushina spoke softly. "Just yesterday, he seemed small enough to fit in my hand."

"He won't be small forever." Yasaka gently reminded her.

"Even then." Kushina's reply was a whisper. "What would you have me do? Throw him to the wolves?"

"No." Yasaka said. "Let him choose his path."

Kushina sighed. "He's still so young."

He could imagine that Yaska smiled gently. "In time."

"…Time is what I need." Kushina's words were noncommittal, but not dismissive. "We… We will have to see. It's a world full of monsters."

Naruto missed the rest of what his mother said. Yasaka had seemingly done the impossible. It wasn't a yes, and was closer to a maybe I'll think about it. But it wasn't a no, either. And that meant many things. Perhaps, just perhaps it was alright to let himself dream a bit…

Everything felt too quiet when he tried to listen again.

And then, too loud. People were moving around him, around them. Yasaka's voice rang out, high and clear. Why did she sound so worried?

Kushina, now on one knee, was wracked with coughs, a wet, rattling sound that spelled danger. On the back of her hand…

Blood. Absent-mindedly, Naruto remembered Kushina's words. Avoid contact with it.

His voice, joining Yasaka's, echoed with urgency. Calling for help, for a doctor, for a medic nin. For anyone who listened.

As Naruto had known, there wasn't much that could be done about it.

Kushina was sick and knew it all too well. It was a miracle that she was still able to do the things she could, the doctor said. Ten more years could be managed if she didn't strain herself, the doctor said. There is nothing I can do unfortunately but ease your pain, the doctor said.

Again. Nothing had changed there, it was just another difficult phase.

Naruto hoped that the doctor was wrong, that his mother would prove her wrong, prove the world wrong, like she had done so many times before. He hoped that she would suddenly decide to beat the odds and recover miraculously. He hoped that all this was nothing but a rough few years they would agree not to speak much of later on. He hoped that Yasaka would return with that elusive, cruel Senju Tsunade in tow. He hoped that his father would come back, and do the impossible. He hoped all five of them stayed together.

But hope was just a small thing. It could not heal his mother.

Even then, he hoped, as he stayed at his mother's side. And so did Yasaka.

And, perhaps because he had remembered that Hinata had lost her mother at a rather young age, Naruto decided to spare Hanabi and Neji a few details.

He decided to spare Hanabi and Neji these two harrowing days spent waiting in a room that smelled of septic, nearly numb with dread. The sight of Kushina's pallid face slowly regaining color, and her red hair splayed across her pillow like a sea of blood. How he stared at the tranquil clouds in the distance and grew to truly loathe them.

He decided to spare Hanabi and Neji the restlessness in Yasaka's eyes. The silent desperation he could see in them. The way she had never managed to stand still and wait for good things to happen. The fact he knew that she would leave again soon, to try and find a solution, once Kushina regained enough strength to stand unaided. How bitter he felt at the fact that she had such the luxury of leaving, and how horrified he was with himself for thinking it in the first place.

He decided to spare Hanabi and Neji the details of how he lost his battle with himself, and how previously discarded thoughts about shaky concepts like restriction and sacrifice surfaced again. How ideas that he, even at the wise age of ten, had deemed too perilous to attempt, solidified into conviction.

He decided to spare Hanabi and Neji all that.

That was simply how things were, back then.

As Naruto had expected, Yasaka soon left Uzushio again. She had spent a little over a month and a half there, this time, which was less than the time before that. Naruto and his mother discovered her departure suddenly, as was custom for Yasaka.

On the living room's table, where the Uzumaki clan symbol stood proudly, a picture of Kushina, himself, and a younger, laughing Yasaka was now placed. It was a nice picture, one that Yasaka had apparently taken away with her at some point, and it seemed to capture a very tender moment.

Nestled at the base of the sculpture was a simple, elegantly written note. In Yasaka's flowing script, it read: "Thank you, and sorry."

Naruto picked up the note, unsure how he felt about it at all. Kushina only smiled wistfully as she wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Kushina knew Yasaka's heart: she was like the wind.

And there was no point in trying to hold the wind. Especially not when it had made its mind up.

And though Naruto scrubbed at his eyes a bit roughly, both he and his mother went about their days, falling back into their well rehearsed routine.

He resumed his practice of sealing with an almost desperate fervor. Burying himself in books he had read already, from A History of Hidden Strength to Unraveling Fūinjutsu. Books he hadn't read, or were beyond him, like Preservation or Secret Languages.

Days passed like this, and there wasn't a night he went to sleep where his eyes, his hands didn't hurt. Before he knew it, they were in the middle of the spring.

And so, the last straw turned out to be Uzumaki Suzaku.

Suzaku, who happened to be from one of the clan's three main families, happened to be an idiot. One who Naruto knew for a fact did not bother with practice. Or with reading anything at all outside of class. Of course, he effortlessly mastered the complex sealing technique of Tasogare.

Tasogare, of course, was a way to balance forces during a sealing, allowing one not to remain stuck at a novice level despite having accumulated as much practice as any other four students put together.

A technique that had eluded Naruto's grasp for agonizing months, each attempt ending in frustration. Suzaku succeeded on his first attempt. It was hard to describe how disheartening this disparity could feel to someone who hadn't fought for something so hard that it bled into their sleeping mind. It was even harder to express to someone who didn't shoulder the same weight of consequences, who didn't stand to lose as much as Naruto did in the face of failure.

Now, if Naruto didn't mention Suzaku before, it wasn't because of some grand narrative or a foreshadowing of a fierce, spirited rivalry that would span years. It wasn't a setup for a dramatic clash in their adult lives.

No, he didn't mention it for two simple reasons:

One. He simply hated Suzaku — he was the sort of boy who expected everything to be handed out to him on a silver platter, and usually got it. Suzaku's awareness of Naruto, on the other hand, was minimal. Evident only in his occasional reference to certain subjects considered off-limits around Naruto.

Two. Suzaku was seven. That feeling of humiliation, Naruto carried with him long enough. And certainly, Naruto had only been ten then, and three years were nothing. But to a child, this sort of thing mattered. A lot.

To him, all of this, combined with his mother's health scare, felt like an extra serving of bad soup.

Or maybe he was just trying to justify himself.

As Naruto had mentioned, the Great Library was situated at the heart of the central island.

Though he hesitated to call Yamatai that. He generally refrained from using 'central' in describing it, wary of giving the impression of supremacy over the other islands, a sentiment already too prevalent among some.

But in any case, the Great Library was located in Yamatai, and Naruto knew it rather well.

Over the past two years, his frequent (daily) visits had made him keenly aware of the library's rhythms, particularly the early mornings when the desk lay abandoned. Uzumaki Haruki, the archivist, seemed more a ghost than a guardian of ancient tomes.

This week, Naruto's visits weren't just casual; he had a purpose, a plan slowly forming in his mind to access the library's restricted section. The reason why was simple.

If there ever was a place where one could likely learn more about bindings, that section was likely it.

The library's interior was pretty nice, he supposed, although he didn't really have much to compare it to. Some called it a marvel of architecture, a labyrinth of books suspended in time. And suspended was a fitting word: bridges criss-crossed above, connecting different sections.

Naruto was reckless, certainly, but he could be patient. So he took his time. Under the pretense of borrowing a new book each day, he would do his best to observe the wards preventing him from accessing the restricted section.

The first time he crossed the bridge to borrow a book, Naruto came from the North side.

The second time he crossed the bridge to borrow a book, Naruto came from the East side.

The third time he crossed the bridge to borrow a book, Naruto came from the West side.

The fourth time he crossed the bridge to borrow a book, Naruto thought that he was starting to look very suspicious.

He felt a nagging unease, as though he were being watched. But he'd managed to take a closer look at the barrier ward. And from the time he spent inside the Library, he observed its inner workings.

The barrier wasn't a dome, as he had previously thought, and had several anchors. Somewhere between five and seven, he supposed.

From the North, he first noticed the ward's vast coverage, and it was why he had mistakenly believed it to be a dome. The East entry revealed the barrier's subtle pulse, and it hinted at a design he didn't understand. From the West, he discerned faint lines of chakra interconnecting, suggesting a network rather than a singular shield.

A Six Points seal, likely. One that was half-physical and was meant to keep unauthorized people out.

It could be considered a good thing, in a way. Unlike a dome, it was a barrier that could be left alone for longer periods, without anyone watching it. Meaning Naruto could theoretically use such an absence to get in. The six-anchored seal distributed the load of the barrier, and ensured no single point bore too much strain, certainly. And it was a resilient one, certainly. But it didn't do as well with either aspect as a domed barrier did. And it didn't match a dome's flexibility, either.

It was likely going to be terrible for him, however. The very design of the barrier, with its multiple anchors, ensured that any attempt to tamper with them would be detected instantly. Even before he could physically breach it, his presence would likely be known. These anchors were not just points of vulnerability, however. They were integral to the seal's resilience, but any one of them could be replaced without compromising the entire structure.

A Six Points barrier was particularly susceptible to simultaneous attacks on its multiple anchors. Which would be impossible on his own. By the end of the fifth day, he began to realize how out of his depth he was.

Entering such a barrier without breaking it, just like undoing it, would require him to be a true sealmaster. Which he definitely wasn't. Breaking it directly would require him to be so strong there would be no Library left at all once he was done.

It didn't mean he wouldn't try.

He was engrossed in Compendium of Modern Seals when he heard the footsteps. From their careless grace, he expected a civilian.

It was a young man, or perhaps a teenager — it was hard to say. He had a tanner complexion than Naruto did, perhaps a shade darker than Yasaka. His wild, long red hair was tamed only by a bandana, and his face was adorned with an effortless grin.

More importantly, he sat himself at Naruto's table. Intrusively.

Naruto eyed the stranger warily, his book forgotten on the table. "Can I help you?" He asked, his voice edged with caution.

The young man studied him. "Enjoying your book?" He asked with a casual tone that Naruto found unsettling.

It wasn't innocent. But there was no way he knew, was there?

Naruto hesitated, then realized there was only one way to avoid getting himself into trouble. He shrugged nonchalantly, hiding his growing unease. "…It's a bit dry."

"Like this whole place, right?" The young man said. "I'm sure that a mere lighter would be enough to set it all on fire."

…What?

"I guess." Naruto answered slowly.

"What're you reading about?" The man tried to peek at Naruto's book, which he shut abruptly.

"Seals."

"Ah, I see." The man's expression shifted subtly. "Six Points ones?"

Oh, that was bad.

Naruto's heart sank, but he remained silent. The man gestured vaguely towards the wall, indicating the outside. "Well, if you don't want to answer that, maybe you can answer something else — a question I've been wondering about."

"…What's that?" Naruto asked warily.

"I've been seeing you trying to look sneaky for three days in a row now, and I was beginning to wonder when you would notice me." The man said.

Naruto's heart raced. "…That wasn't a question." He muttered defensively.

"Ha!" The other grinned. "I was beginning to wonder if I had the right guy."

Naruto glanced toward the exit. The man seemed fairly muscular. Heavy then. If he just threw himself over the ledge, he could land atop a bookshelf which might hold his own weight, but would break under the other's…

Golden eyes were upon him, saying nothing—

"…You are Uzumaki Kushina's son, aren't you? That's what I heard."

Who the hell bothered mentioning their clan name, when everybody here shared it? Naruto wondered. There was no hint of anything in the man's voice. Only careful, crafted neutrality. It reminded Naruto of Noboru, which was rarely a good thing, especially these days.

"Yes." Naruto said tersely.

"Which one?" The man pressed on. "The one from the Service Branch? Red Death Kushina?"

Naruto knew Red Death to be a nickname that had been bestowed upon her. She would never call herself that, of course. She wasn't from the Service Branch, though. Not as far as he knew. But the houses had changed with the Rise. It didn't matter. Hearing anything from that guy's mouth, as though he knew her, as though he knew anything about her at all, hearing anything that reminded Naruto that there was a time when the simple act of walking didn't exhaust his mother, pissed him off.

Naruto's frayed temper burst out of him. "What does it matter whose son I am?" He bit out. "What does it matter if my father is from a noble clan or was just the son of fishermen from nowhere at all? Does it change anything if my mother was born into the Kizoku-ke or the Bushi-ke? The Hinin-ke?"

In the initial moment, the young man's expression held a hint of puzzlement, and it overshadowed his irritation. Naruto caught a fleeting glimmer of what could almost pass for kinship in his gaze, a brief connection that vanished as quickly as it appeared. With a casual shrug, the man's eyes became neutral again, and he scratched his head in a gesture of bemusement.

"The fuck is the matter with you…?"

"Nothing's the matter." Naruto said tightly. "Nothing at all."

The other lifted an eyebrow. "…You do realize there are two Kushina living here, right?"

…Oh. He hadn't realized.

Naruto's anger bled out of him, and before he knew it, he was apologizing for his outburst. The young man just waved it away.

"I don't need excuses. And you were right about one thing." He said, leaning forward. There was an odd glint in his golden eyes, something that seemed a bit wild. "These things don't matter much."

He pressed something into Naruto's hand: a paper tag.

"…What's this?" Naruto muttered, eying the strange markings written down on it. They weren't any symbols he knew. Perhaps the ones used in its construction had been obscured already.

"A shikigami tag. Mine." The man revealed.

Nearly no one bothered with shikigami, these days. Certainly, there had been more masters of that art, before the Fall, but they had been lost to the waves of time. Crafting a shikigami, even a single one of practical use, demanded an immense dedication of effort and energy — a commitment so substantial that it deterred most from pursuing the art. Consequently, practitioners increasingly directed their focus towards other disciplines, leaving the once-celebrated practice of shikigami to fade away.

The man continued, as though he hadn't just said that he was doing the sealing equivalent of using kitchen knives as throwing weapons. "I sometime send Monkey to the restricted section to fetch some items for me." His eyes appraised Naruto thoughtfully. "He's the one you're holding — he's somewhat crude, especially when compared to more recent ones. But he gets the job done. I have others, and they're all part of my extension technique."

Extension technique…?

Naruto was taken aback, but not solely for this. Not just for the unmistakable pride in the other man's voice. Sending shikigami instead of going himself? Such actions were forbidden in the Library. And it didn't fit with what Naruto knew of the archivists. They never bent the rules, as far as he knew.

"Haruki's on 'watch', today." The man said, slightly amused. "I'm sure you know what it means, by now."

Naruto did. He just nodded.

"The tag is saturated in my chakra." The man continued. "Play your cards right, and you can use Monkey to get whatever it is you're looking for. Figure it out."

Naruto held the tag tightly, a surge of possibilities racing through his mind.

"Don't tell anyone, though." The man said, glancing around, almost lazily. "I'd likely get chewed out. Bury the tag behind Sakurajima's big tree once you're done. If anyone asks, you stole it from my house before trying to break into the Library."

That would mean a lot of trouble. It was finally starting to dawn on him that 'just' breaking into the Library might not be the best of ideas.

There were many thoughts whirling through Naruto's mind.

Who are you?

What's in it for you?

Should I trust you just because of an odd look?

Did you try to do the same thing I am trying to attempt? Did you manage?

"…Why?" The word escaped Naruto's lips before he could reel it back, his gaze locked on the paper tag in his hand, overwhelmed. A myriad of questions swirled in his mind, but this one word carried the weight of them all, voiced with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.

"Why?" The man shrugged, his gaze intense yet indifferent. "No reason at all."

His golden eyes seemingly pierced through Naruto, in spite of the casual motion. Naruto tensed, ready for anything. The man simply stood up and turned to leave.

"I just wanted to see what you'd do."

lensdump:

i/pjbreQ : Kushina

AN: It's not going to be all doom and gloom, promise.

Next chapter: Fool