No More Chapter 63, a naruto fanfic

A/N: Originally I planned to post this before New Years but a funeral brought that idea to a halt. I think we're back on trach though so better late than never.

To everyone that has reviewed and stayed with this story so far, thank you very much. Just a few more to go.

Also, a question: Does anyone know of the Naruto/ Percy Jackson challenge by Zanark Sathanus? I read a story by 3headed-dragon that referenced it but I can't find a copy of the challenge to read. The story in question, Naruto Demigod Youkai, gave me an idea for a story that I can't get rid of, but I want to read the challenge before I put anything to paper. Any help is appreciated.

We now return you to the next release of No More.

Enjoy as you will.

~Siva'a

~III~

Previously on No More

Well-seasoned travelers tend to be extremely familiar with the typical inconveniences of the road. Oft times dirt and road dust are the least of your worries.

Cold nights are common if you travel unprepared. A sturdy tent and reinforced sleeping bag are vital to combatting rapid temperature drops or, even worse, an unexpected rain shower that can further lower your core body temperature leading to acute illnesses.

Depending on where you are in the elemental nations, the ever-present need to support the body's digestive cycle can hamstring progress and result in dehydration, a condition almost as lethal as acute hypothermia. A body requires regular infusions of fresh water to maintain its delicate biorhythms and that means more water than the average person realizes that they need. Shockingly more so, which also adds cumbersome weight unless you use seals to lighten the load, a luxury most can ill afford.

We won't even tread into the constant threat of predators, be they animal or human in nature. While the Land of Fire was more regulated than most other nations through regular patrols, they still had their fair share of warm-blooded hazards to the average passerby. When populations suffer, brigands tend to spring up like field daisies.

None of these issues, however, plagued our current traveler, the soft "click-clack" of his wooden sandals winding through Hi no Kuni's dense foliage. Each soft patter rang dully on the softened earth, a comforting sound that meant less dirt and grime to brush off once the walls of Konohagakure eventually came into view. The path he followed wound in snakelike fashion ever eastward, its dark canopy allowing barely enough light for him to find his way back to Konoha.

Back to his home.

What an odd choice of words to think of. His ivory mane of spiky hair swung lazily with each step, his thoughts drifting to a place that hadn't felt like home in quite some time. At least two years, maybe?

Could it even be considered as his home considering how much time he spent being forced away from it?

He was a "Man of the World," by his best estimations especially if you took his still recent exile into account.

He'd lost track of time traveling the nations. There were many natural sights to lose yourself in if one had the inclination, patience, and (more importantly) money to do so. Up until this latest summons from the would-be-king, Konoha hadn't even crossed his mind and that piqued some measure of melancholy from the aged shinobi.

Where had the time gone?

How much of his blood, sweat, and tears were poured out in its defense?

A simple shrug of his wide shoulders was the only reply to the rhetorical as his ground-devouring stride once again stretched itself out to consume the remaining kilometers.

He was close now-

RRRRRRRRRRRRuuuuuuuuuuuuummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmbbblllllllleeeeeeeee

The sound reached him before the earth shuddered beneath those same wooden sandals, a deep thrumming noise that hung in the air like thunder in the far-off distance. As an afterthought, his dark pupils tilted skyward trying to pierce the leafy overhead in search of fresh clouds despite knowing it would be pointless; Hi no Kuni's trees grew tall and strong, their arms blotting out the sky in even the brightest weather. Still, it took several minutes to confirm what he suspected to be true by other means.

That was not a natural sound.

Realizing his feet had come to a complete stop, the burly Sage resumed his journey, this time his wandering thoughts more focused on the destination vice the journey.

Before he knew it, thoughts of arriving later than expected just to tweak the nose of his bratty Hokage seemed less important than a moment before.

Before too long, brisk walking turned into a light jog.

Not much later, a light jog - driven by an urgent gut feeling that would not abate - sprang into a full-on Shinobi run.

With an aftershock rumble to provide the necessary impetus, a burst of chakra crumpled the ground beneath his feet and propelled the last Sannin loyal to Konoha upwards into the welcoming boughs of Konoha's surrounding forest.

Jiraiya had that feeling, that deep sense of foreboding that tended to echo in your bones. It was a reminder that the time for laziness was long passed and opening.

~III~

"Peace demands the most heroic labor and the most difficult sacrifice. It demands greater heroism than war. It demands greater fidelity to the truth and a much more perfect purity of conscience."

― Thomas Merton

~III~

~ Next Chapter: 62 – Setting Things Right

~III~

Konohagakure, Eastern Gate

Kenzo was feeling anything other than "strong" or "wise," at the moment. Taking stock of the situation, it was painfully obvious as to why?

The week was only three days, in and each and every day before he took the watch, the entire watch rotation had an early – as in before 0500 in the morning – pre-brief as to the day's planning. Each and every day that brief began with a stern warning not to antagonize the unbelievably hostile looking force camped on their doorstep. At the end of that same brief, they were given the strictest orders not to cross, insult, enrage, threaten, taunt, or otherwise irritate the very man that was standing less than three meters from poor Kenzo with the vast majority of that aforementioned hostile force chomping at his heels to enter the village.

Saito-effing-Uzumaki, or so he'd been told.

Saito Uzumaki was the urban legend of the shinobi world believed to have died in the sacking of Uzu. Stories of his actions through the Second Shinobi World War were lobbied about during his time in the academy. The man was a freaking legend and was "supposedly" staring him down at this very moment.

He still didn't believe any of it.

It boggled the mind if he was being truthful.

To be frankly honest, Kenzo didn't think he was paid enough as the senior Chūnin gate guard to deal with this kind of crap. Where they expecting him to face down the father of Kenshin "Battosai" Uzumaki, another of his personal heroes, and stand a chance?

Let alone the rows upon rows of angry glares starting at the admittedly tall man's broad shoulders?

Even the unintentional Killing Intent being passively released by this mini army was withering and a response from the Hokage's office still hadn't arrived. Yes, the recent explosion – though far enough from the gates – was concerning, but protocol dictated a full lockdown until the Hokage gave the all-clear.

That obviously did not sit well with Kenzo's rather large group of company. Knowing that they'd never be able to hold them back if this elderly gentleman decided to force the issue, Kenzo did what any sensible person wanting to keep his limbs attached to his body would do when faced with a sea of rattling sword handles.

He promptly stepped aside and waived them through.

Seeing over five-hundred people Body Flicker in consecutive waves is an impressive sight Kenzo could rather do without next time but it lessened the tension near the gate by an enormous amount.

The young Chūnin then looked up to the top of the wall and scowled at the eight ANBU watching from on high, an action that returned a simple shoulder shrug from the detail leader as if to say, "What can we do about it?"

Kenzo simply picked himself up mentally and grunted out a terse, "Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiight."

They were someone else's problem now. His arms were still where he found them when he woke up this morning and that was all that mattered, at the moment.

~III~

Jiraiya's final leap cleared the western tree line carrying him about a hundred meters short of the western guard station. It was probably a good decision given the hostile reaction he received when he landed.

Two-dozen ANBU masks whipped around to his presence, hands clamping on to weapon hilts of all shapes and sizes. Beyond those two-dozen, perhaps another fifty agents loitered with their eyes glued to the trees behind the Sannin.

Jiraiya, much to his personal displeasure, noted that none of the agents focused on him released their weapon hilts right away like they should have, at least not until he gave the code phrase provided in his summons to today's festivities.

Even then he noticed several in the group that kept ready hands near those weapon handles.

Then his eyes took in the scene at the gate and he grimaced at the carnage.

"What happened here?"

At first, he was rewarded with silence. Then a particularly angry ANBU junior officer rose from the bloody bodies on the ground, several of which wore ANBU uniforms, and turned to face him.

"What happened here, Jiraiya-sama,…"

The Sannin took clear note of the disdain in the agent's voice.

"…is that the Guest you were supposed to meet here and escort decided he didn't want to wait then opted to attack the village and used a jutsu that obliterated most of the buildings making up the Market, Finance, and core residential Districts of Konoha."

Jiraiya's eyes snapped away from the agent and in the direction of the temples on the far side of the village from where he stood.

"What kept you?"

Jiraiya ignored the clear lack of respect in the Lieutenant's voice and bolted through the gate and the farmlands beyond it without a word in response. It saved him from the disgusted snorts of derision from the block of agents providing security for the ransacked Western Gate.

Instead, Jiraiya ran. He ran until an enormous wall of rubble rose to redirect him upwards high enough to see what was left of Konoha.

It wasn't much. Even the Hokage's tower was gone, nothing but a mound of crumbled stone and wood beneath the Hokage Monument that shinobi were picking through by the dozens. Most of the core village was flattened earth. Best he could tell, whatever jutsu was used to attack Konoha didn't have the range to hurt the outer residential, clan, and farm lands meaning most of the people rooting around in the rubble were probably from there.

From a city of tens of thousands, there were perhaps three-to-four hundred left, not including the ANBU providing a perimeter.

Jiraiya frowned knowing that, if there were any more survivors, the force trying to clear the rubble would not be enough.

Handseals flowed and, in a large poof of smoke, five armored battle toads standing twice his height popped into being before silently moving off to help with the rescue efforts.

The dip in his reserves was noticeable but it didn't appear like hostilities were ongoing. He could spare the usage for now.

Jiraiya's face was a death mask of pain. He'd warned that idiot not to trust the Akatsuki. It was that very discussion that turned into a knock-down-drag-out argument that got him booted from the village in the first place. He knew the history of the group. The fact that the recommendation came from advisor meeting notes generated and left behind by that bastard Danzo only convinced the Toad Sage more of how wrong such a recommendation was.

And this was the result…

His eyes panned to an almost perfect circular wall of trash and crumbled buildings ringing the village center where a once vibrant population used to be and he wanted to sob. Everything was levelled and the only combatant survivors appeared to be from underground facilities most villagers knew nothing about or clan shinobi too far out of practice to be of use.

Except for that group…

Jiraiya's hope soared as he moved over to a rather large group of people clearing rubble over by what used to the Religious Sector of the village. They would be plenty for now and the rest of the village could "catch up," as it were.

~III~

Ruins of the Inari-Taisho Shrine

Saito's violet eyes cataloged everything the Hatchlings cleared, every rock, wall section, and roof tile. Most of the garbage lingering in the way once resided near the center of the village meaning tons of rubble would need to be lifted away before they could even sift through what was left of the temple.

Full-grown Umihebi lifted pieces far too big and cumbersome for normal-sized people using their gaping maws. He would hear about the horrible taste of dirt and concrete later but, for now, there was another purpose and time was of the essence.

"We've found the temple proper!"

It was difficult to resist the tingle of relief that shot up his spine, that happy flush of good news however small, but it was a welcome one.

He also wasn't familiar with the voice but the cry shifted everyone's focus and, as if by magic, the crush of bodies flowed to a particular mound of trash. The removal then began again in earnest.

"Good work everyone!" Saito growled out. "Now we need to-"

He paused, his eyes and head flickering to his left as an all-too familiar shinobi trotted up, one hand held up as if to hail the group frantically shifting tons of rubble with ease. That relief in this new person's face changed the moment Jiraiya recognized the snowy-crowned Uzumaki, his feet shuffling to a halt moments before a ring of ten sword-bearing Hatchlings cut him off from their apparent leader and what was still a rescue operation.

"That's… not… possible," the Sannin mumbled still loud enough to be heard.

"We don't have time for you, Konoha-nin." Saito's comment was meant as a dismissal even if the toad brute didn't seem to catch on.

"H-How…" Jiraiya sputtered back. "W-W-When?!"

"I've neither the time nor the inclination to share clan secrets with you, turncoat."

The younger white-haired shinobi flinched back from Saito's venom, his shock slowly giving way to anger. "I ne-!"

"BEFORE you make some asinine statement about how loyal you pretended to be," Saito's violet eyes pulsed with thick Uzumaki chakra, "think on how you weren't around to learn about my return to the elemental nations and why that was."

Believing the conversation done, Saito turned away to keep track of the rescue. Too bad the Sannin was trying to be extra troublesome.

Off near the rubble clearing effort by the Hokage Tower, a dozen or more sneezes rent the air.

"I… We need your help over to the north!" Jiraiya tried to push genuine sentiment into his voice knowing many lives were at stake without enough bodies to pick through the rubble.

Saito didn't even bother to acknowledge the request or turn back to face him.

"Saito-san! Please!" Jiraiya shuffled a step closer only to freeze when several swords partly hissed their way from tightly-gripped scabbard. "C'mon! We can square up old debts after but people's lives are at stake!"

This time Saito did turn to face him but the smirk on his face held zero warmth.

"Never fear, Jiraiya."

The Sannin tentatively began to relax…

"Uzu will provide the same support Konoha did at the end of the Second Shinobi War." The smirk became a Cheshire grin as Saito Uzumaki turned away again and held out his hand to receive a circular disk just smaller than his palm that shone gold in the daylight.

He checked the disk in his palm for damage flipping it back and forth several times before handing it to a waiting Shadow Sect messenger with a brusque, "You know what to do."

There was a quick bow before the male dove headfirst into Saito's own shadow as if it were a deep pool of water.

Saito gave a heavy sigh then turned his focus to the groups starting to pull back from the dig site.

"Seal our valuables then prepare to move out!"

His order was like a hammer driving the final nail into Konoha's coffin for Jiraiya. The Sannin tried once more to plead for their help, a soft, "You can't really mean to-," but he was cut off by an unknown Hatchling.

"What of the Yamanaka?" a heavier male voice barked out.

"Leave Konoha to their own. They are good at that." He cut one last harsh glare to the shock-faced Toad-nin. "We move out in fifteen," he barked out turning back to oversee the stasis sealing of every Hatchling in the wedding party.

He was confident their regeneration would prevent anything other than a beheading.

Saito didn't even glance in the Sannin's direction as the broad-shouldered nin slumped away to see if he could help Konoha's survivors, if there were any.

~III~

An Unidentified Tropical Location

Somewhere warm where the air tasted of sea salt and bamboo, an enormous tent stood on a hill high enough to overlook the lower land mass stretching to the sandy coast. This tent, some would say, was perfectly placed to see the happy flurry of construction beneath its canopied entrance, the sounds of laughter and singing mixing equally with the underlying rhythm of saws, hammers, and earth-moving equipment.

Inside that billowing mass of cloth, stood a large square table. On that two-meter-by-two-meter table, lay a three-dimensional map of the island complete with miniature trees and a detailed water replica of the man-made harbor filled with actual water. All but one of the large supplemental blueprints were rolled and hung by string to the side of the table. The absent one lay open and forgotten for the moment on one corner of the map table, its empty string holder waving lazily in the cool afternoon breeze.

The dozen or so people milling about inside this construction command tent were gathered around the table not for further city planning or debates on construction materials and their pros or cons, but to finish watching something unforgivable. Hands covered silent mouths held agape in horror. Others bowed their heads in revery. Some wept silent tears more in support of the lone figure standing at the edge of the table, their left hand held with the palm up, his hand cradling a golden disk as the last flickers of chakra faded into the tents overhead.

The disturbing images had not begun as such.

It began from the viewpoint of the second of four ships departing Nadeshiko, as if a camera was being used to make a movie of sorts. It showed the ships clearing Nadeshiko harbor and sailing in a southerly direction, the seas unusually calm and pleasant. Then two days pass and the rolling images show the fourth and final ship continuing on as the first three turn west-southwest.

Before too long, the fourth ship is swallowed by the morning's grey haze and forgotten to time.

Then the view changes. The typical grey of the horizon give way to the green shores of Hi no Kuni and the Land of Tea. The trailing ship, the largest of the three breaks off to berth in the Land of Noodles. The last two, continue on to Degarashi Port where the calm of the sea is overwhelmed by the heavy footfalls of a force looking to make a statement.

There are two quick pulses of chakra and the images speed up even as the sound cuts off. The cityscape of Degarashi blurs away to the dirt roads and countryside, the dark blue eyes of the disk holder narrowing as they search for key events.

The joining up of an additional two thousand warriors clearing the path from Noodles to the border with Tea.

The gates of the vaunted Leaf Village coming into view.

Two more pulses of chakra and the sound returns as the images slow to a normal pace.

At this point, all motion in the tent stops as everyone focuses on the words spilling out from the disc. The "warm" welcome at the gates. The even warmer welcome at the flower shop.

Though the whispers are few and attempt to be discreet, disapproval in the actions of the Yamanaka is a common theme to all watching. Still, the disk holder presses on.

There is a rapid series of double pulses to blur past the "normal evening routine" much to the blushing shame of many.

Then comes the shrine.

And the argument.

And the admissions from the Yamanaka Clan Head.

Then comes the chaos and darkness.

When Naruto finally lowers the disk to the table's edge, the silence in the tent is deafening. No one dares to move or breathe too harshly though many want to cry in outrage or sob in sympathy. It was supposed to be a happy event. A joyful moment.

For many minutes, nothing. Then…

"Tazuna."

A shuffle of sandals followed by an oddly soft whisper. "Yeah, Gaki?"

"Does your team have what they need to finish this project?"

Heavy sigh. "Yeah, we got it covered." The older man places a calloused palm atop the youth's left shoulder. "Go do what you need to do."

The youth nods then strides directly from the tent, four armored figures flowing to cover his sides and back without sound. He does not stop moving until he passes through the village rising from the ashes and reaches the skiff that brought him ashore over a week ago. He paid no attention to the hand signals his guards shot out to the Dōji and the frantic scramble on their part to disassemble their camp and supplies for sealing.

Without a word he is rowed out to the Kraken laying at anchor just beyond the swirling masses of water ringing the island, the turbulent waters parting magically for the latest Walker to visit the cleansed shores of the Uzumaki.

Within the hour, the Capital ship is breaking waves to the north and east with only one destination in mind.

~III~

Four Days Later, Chamber of Regents, Nadeshiko

"Preliminary reports from our assets emplaced-"

"Spare me the caveats, Tokiwa-san." Shizuka's voice was strangely subdued, eerily without passion of any kind.

The much taller woman shifted uncomfortably but pressed on. "The village proper is a total loss. More than seventy percent of the population are assumed dead or missing."

Many of the faces surrounding the conference table tensed up at the unfortunate news. While some would mourn on behalf of their Princess, most would mourn the loss of a potential heir from the pending union. It was not a secret to the Uzumaki heir's strength and what it could mean for the new heiress.

"How do we know this if the village was destroyed?"

Tokiwa's smile was a sad little thing at her ward's grasping for hope. "Our agents were on the far side of the shrine, up in the surrounding trees to conceal their presence. They were able to get clear of the destruction."

Shizuka nodded once, the tightening of her jaw and the slight glistening in her eyes the only sign of her distress.

Several heads nodded their approval of her strength even as their hearts broke on her behalf.

"Numbers are still coming in. It does appear that Konoha-"

Once again, Shizuka uncharacteristically butts in with a terse, "I do not care about them. Tell me about his group."

Tokiwa took a deep steadying breath (one which strained her uniform to its limits if the sound of reinforced stitching snapping like a campfire was any indication) and lowered her hands to her sides. She would not need her notes for this part.

"Saito-san was seen sealing away his body for transport. Apparently, the regeneration of his guards, though badly wounded, saved their lives." There was a brief pause. "He was the only…apparent fatality."

It was only because of the silence that followed that every person in the chamber heard the shouting just outside the double doors of the meeting room.

"You can't barge in on the Council!"

"Halt! Halt or we will use force!"

By now, the room's occupants were rising from their seats, each spacing out in a defensive line to protect their Princess. More than one blade hissed free from a hidden sleeve holster or thigh hideaway.

"This is your final-!"

SHOOOOOM!

Heavy oaken doors parted to reveal the most intense pair of dark blue eyes Shizuka swore she'd never see again and it was as if all of the oxygen had been sucked from the room, at least for one jade-eyed woman.

~III~

You would have been able to hear a pin drop. As a matter of fact, several Senbon did fall to the glossy floorboards providing the necessary Ti-Ti-Ti-TING as a half dozen or so bounced off the polished wood. It would be expected given the shocked open-mouthed faces staring at the blond-haired Daimyo as he swept into the room.

He was supposed to be dead.

He knew that he was supposed to be dead, right? Though many had the question at the forefront of their minds, most could only open-mouthed gape as their heads swiveled to keep him in sight.

But there he went, right around the left side of the table, gliding past an equally baffled Tokiwa, then right up to a slowly-standing Shizuka as he swept her off her feet into a Princess Carry without slowing to then scoot around the opposite side of the table.

The entire time, no one else in the room moved to intervene…that is until Tokiwa's brain rebooted and she began zoom off after her freshly-kidnapped charge. She managed to raise one hand signaling for the romance villain to halt, her right foot taking one full step in pursuit, right before a large, blue blur planted itself firmly in her path. With her eyes still on the broad shoulders spiriting her charge away – who was doing very little to put up a fight from what she could see, it took a second for her mind to register that it was the wide palm of one of the Uzu Daimyo's guardsmen plastered flat against her chest that brought her to a complete halt.

While she did not wear the traditional "peak-a-boo" uniform, Tokiwa was like most Nadeshiko kunoichi and sported a rather sizeable chest severely bound by her body-tight bodysuit. Glancing down at the hand resting on her large mounds then back up into the stern eyes of the admittedly cute guard, she stepped to her left to go around him only to have him match her.

Move right.

Move left.

Move right again.

Glance down again.

Look up (something she did very little of in the village being one of its tallest warriors) once more.

Then scowl.

Catching a final glimpse of her charge being whisked through the still open chamber doors, Tokiwa's head snapped to the two kimonoed Ladies in Waiting standing stock-still like their sandals were glued to the floor.

"After them!" she roared.

Two shocked squeaks preceded the furious scramble of their feet before she returned her attention to the man resolutely blocking her way.

"So, is this your idea of a marriage proposal or are you checking to make sure they are real?" The derision in her voice was enough to turn most heads in the room in Tokiwa's direction. Once the gasps started filling the room, her living obstacle blinked clearly in confusion before his gorgeous (she did not just think that) sky-blue eyes inexorably worked their way down to her major concern.

He blinked as if his mind could not comprehend what was happening.

He looked up into her unblinking stare, and gulped.

Umi glanced back down to his wide palm nearly smothered in the compressed cleavage of the rather curvaceous woman.

Then he again looked up into her eyes for the all the world a stranger lost in a strange land (his hand unmoved but twitching).

Umi's eyes ballooned comically while Tokiwa's narrowed ominously.

"Don't you da-!"

SQUEEZE

Her reaction was immediate. Tokiwa smacked his palm away with the back of her left hand and nearly sent her right fist through his stomach.

As she stormed off, the thoroughly angry – but smirking - woman barked back over her shoulder, "Arena! Five o'clock!"

Umi, even as he tried to fill his lungs with air from his new kneeling position, could only close his eyes in shame. He'd been trying to avoid a challenge with the woman for months knowing that he could not provide a child for her. Even worse, her higher risks for complications in pregnancy made it imperative that she found a viable male instead of wasting her time with him.

Hatchlings simply could not reproduce with anyone, even their own kind.

The hilarious guffaws from his male team members did little to make the situation less horrible.

"We did warn you."

Umi's grumbled, "Oh, shut up," was considerably less than heartfelt.

~III~

In the meantime, two very frantic handmaidens were scrambling through the hallways in an effort to regain their missing mistress.

At first, decorum overrode haste as fisted palms hiked kimono skirts upward enough to barely clear the floor – as was proper. It took two rapid corners with neither sight no sound of their wayward princess to dash that idea and those hemlines inched upwards enough to support a very unladylike scamper.

When another long hallway followed by another turn leading to the final stretch surrendered no worried relief, both women glanced at each other enough to take to the walls in a full-on kunoichi sprint. Soft-soled sandals cushioned the sound as they sprinted along one wall, leapt across an intersectioned divide to alter directions then rebounded off the floor to dash headlong towards their mistress' chambers. By the time the both of them touched down before the large double doors of Shizuka-sama's bedchamber, both of them were slightly red-faced and irritated that they could not keep pace with the disrespectful thief burdened as he was with a passenger.

That lasted until a gentle throat clearing brought their attention to the six Hatchling guards standing placidly before the door each woman desperately wanted to open in order to save their princess.

One of them even stepped forward reaching for one of the handles only to freeze once a large hand clamped down on their wrist.

"And just where do you think you're going young lady?"

Deep brown eyes blinked innocently as if the answer were as plain as the nose on their face before responding with a sharpened, "To check upon our mistress. Where else would I be going?"

Several of the unwanted guards chuckling back at her only seemed to raise her ire.

"Why is that funny?"

It was one of the females standing behind the rather large brute blocking her way that answered her.

"The happy couple are not in need of your help. Please move along," the Hatchling replied along with a condescending wave of their hand to indicated the direction each handmaiden should move in.

The nerve. The cheek!

Being a proud Nadeshikan, she opened her mouth to respond only to freeze as the double doors seemed to buckle, as if something heavy was pushed against it with a THUMP. It was immediately followed by the guttural moan of a female voice just on the other side of the heavy wood.

A moan that could only be mistaken for pleasure.

Both handmaidens blinked in stupor, glanced to the smug and now smirking faces of the people keeping them from their charge, then glanced back at the door again in time to both see and hear another THUMP followed by an even louder moan.

The second maiden's face blossomed into the brightest shade of red any of the chuckling Hatchlings had ever seen.

THUMP.

Moooaaaaaaann.

WHUMP-THUMP.

Moan, followed by a high-pitched gasp.

The door buckled and their princess' voice immediately followed.

Both women suddenly found the raging heat of their faces unacceptable and found urgent business to attend to elsewhere.

The cackling of the six figures outside their mistress' door surely had nothing to do with their renewed burst of speed.

By the time they returned, a time long after the repeated banging of bedchamber doors and departed ruffians, all was thankfully quiet in the hall. Quietly opening the door to check in on their charge, both women noted their Princess soundly asleep with the most serene smiled still on her face.

On the pillow next to her lay a folded piece of paper with a single, fully-formed galaxy rose serving as it's paper weight.

~III~

Melen, The Unclaimed Lands

By the time the Blue Mermaid made port in Melen, Naruto had his plan for the next three years laid out. He wasn't happy about the agreement he had to make with Soyo-chan to keep her from rebelling and giving away it all, but her understood her position.

It is extremely difficult to win a fight against someone physically strong enough to stop you and emotionally convicted enough to give up her own life to keep you safe, especially if they really believed the sacrifice to be worth it.

In the end, her brought her along as he stepped from the gangplank and onto the dusty path leading to Orario.

He would deal with his escape plan latter. For now, he had work to do.

~III~

Hōwa Creek, on the Outskirts of Yugakure (3 Years After Konoha's Fall)

Raucous laughter filled the air but that was not an unusual thing this time of the day at Old Man Shibata's construction site. Most days around lunch time were filled with laughter as seven of the eight-man crew took turns cajoling the eighth and newest member over his beautiful fiancé and her hand-crafted lunches. It was done so often that it was pretty much part of their daily routine, especially with Aito being one of the more sought-after bachelors in the small village of Hōwa Creek.

Aito Tomisaburo was indeed the talk of the town having moved over a year and a half ago to the small farming community to start a new life, or so he claimed. Young, tall, handsome, pale of skin, and lean of build, he carried himself with the dignity of an aristocrat and handled conversations like a learned scholar. It was easy to see how the young ladies fawned all over him and, as many guessed, he took up a teaching post a little over a half a year after reaching the village when a sudden retirement unexpectedly up a spot.

He was often the fuel of many a young girl's high-society fantasies.

Now Hōwa was a small village barely holding two dozen farms and close to one hundred people but even small villages have need of good teachers and Aito, soft-spoken, articulate, and gentle mannered man that he was, fit into the school like he was born to it. No, Hōwa wasn't anything like the sprawling village of Uraraka Falls just fifty kilometers to the northeast with their five-hundred villagers and major town hall, but they held their own and their people were the salt of the earth. Hōwa's villagers felt that they deserved a chance just like every other village. So, it was no surprise that young Aito's expertise was very much welcome.

Hōwa is also where he met the lovely Ms. Seika Yamazaki, the only other teacher working in the two-room schoolhouse. Ms. Seika, as she was called, was a young widow her husband having been killed by raiders when their daughter, Sumire, was little more than a year old. Now a stern, no-nonsense seven-year-old, Sumire was the apple of Aito's eye and that only added more fuel to the teasing fires of his summer job helping around the village on Shibata-san's construction team, his higher ability with math earning him the promotion to Team Surveyor and instrument operator.

Tohru and his son Tomo particularly enjoyed giving Aito a hard time but they were two birds of a scraggly feather. Both were rough around the edges, big-hearted people with large hands used to hard labor all their lives. While they enjoyed teasing Aito, they - like the rest of the team - considered him one of their own and hoped to break him out of his quiet shell with some good-natured humor and a little honest hard work. Since he seemed eager to learn, many would spend time during breaks and after work sharing some of their basic carpentry knowledge with him, talents he appeared to pick up easily.

Aito seemed to take it all in good stride and cherished his lunch breaks spent with the two precious women of his life before the lunch horn sounded sending them off to the small hobby farm he was trying to build up. He was determined to ease their life of struggle (teacher's not in the shinobi world don't make a whole lot) so he spent his summers laboring so they could save up for Sumire's tenth birthday.

Aito wanted to buy her a small pony once the farm was finished.

"You look like you miss her already, Aito-san. Perhaps you should ask the old man for the afternoon off to work on that little brother little Sumire keeps asking you for!"

More hard laughter.

Aito tried to hide his blush and rose to toss his garbage away before waving off the increasingly garish humor. They meant well at least.

With one last glance, he watched Seika-chan and her daughter disappear hand-in-hand down the main street of the village. The barn they were raising for Farmer Taiga lay at the southernmost edge of the village, in the opposite direction.

Rather than bother the poor farmer to use his bathroom, Shibata-san always set up a porta-bathroom at his job sites.

It wasn't much, but it got the job done.

It also gave him a view of his own piece of land not three kilometers away to the west. Lightly wooded and butted up against the trail end of the stream fed by the Genbu River running along the village's western edge, this job usually allowed him to relax at home with a cool drink and his paints as the sun set over the land.

Trudging out to the wooden booth that served the team's biological needs, Aito stepped around the corner of the barn's frame and into the smelly enclosure with a soft sigh closing the door with the gentle "Clack" of wood on wood.

BRAAAAAACK!

His peaceful break was almost immediately shattered by a razor-sharp kunai piercing the front of the door, the metal fracturing the wooden planks before piercing halfway through the rear wall.

One heartbeat.

Then two.

Without ceremony, the shining golden blade - which was connected to an equally golden chain - reversed direction and shot back across the open space between the barn corner and the outhouse and into the waiting hand of a figure draped from head to toe in heavy black cloth.

No, that was dyed leather.

Most of his body was concealed by a hooded trench. His lower face was wreathed in a basic black mask that matched the fingerless gloves on both hands. The body-hugging flak vest was clasped closed by heavy buckles painted a dull, non-reflective black to match. Reinforced pants tapered into black boots with the same matte buckles

All of it contrasted the bright metal blade spinning idly in his pale finger tips before his arm darted out again. Once more. Twice more. Thrice more. Again and again the blade punched mercilessly through the wooden door to pierce the back wall and return to his waiting hand.

"My, my... whatever did that poor bathroom do to deserve such treatment from you?"

The voice interrupted what would have been another toss of the blade but the arm lazily dropped back to the dark figure's side. With his head tilting to the left and his masked face turning ever so slightly (presumably so he could glance over his right shoulder at the figure sticking serenely to the barn's wall about five meters off the ground), the most chilling voice reverberated from the depths of that black abyss you would call a hood. It was a deep, bone-jarring growl enhanced by chakra, the sound grating and inhuman as it echoed on itself at a baritone human vocal cords would never reach on their own.

"I just wanted to make sure I had your full and undivided attention."

Aito shivered at the deeply inhumane voice despite himself. Taking a deep breath to still his nerves, he reached behind his back and drew out a blade of his own, not a kunai but more like a hunting knife with a blade as long as his hand from palm to fingertips.

"You have it," he returned warily. "I don't know who you think I am, friend, but I'd appreciate it if you'd make a quick apology and be on your way."

The unearthly chuckle bubbling up from the endless pit of a hood made Aito's teeth grate but he tried to speak over the sound of it while reinforcing himself with his own meager KI.

"Look-' Aito tried to cut through evil sound of this person's voice, "…Look-!"

The sound of boulders grating on one another that the masked figure called a chuckle turned into teeth-peeling laughter that made his entire body crawl with its demonic taint.

"LOOK! We can let this go and we can both be on our way as if-."

He paused once a rolled piece of parchment landed on the ground below where he was perched with a "THWAP."

Seeing his antagonist unmoving, the self-proclaimed school teacher edged his way down to take a closer look, his body crabbing sideways in order to keep the figure in his periphery. Mimicking what he saw with the kunai, Aito made a single chakra string to lift the parchment from the earth and into his free hand. Normally he'd refrain from this until the jackass throwing kunai at him was gone but he didn't think this guy would bugger off so easily, and the rolled-up piece of parchment wasn't a scroll.

It was a loosely rolled up wanted poster if the large red script he could see was any indication.

Scampering back up the half-made wall, he untied the string only to come face-to-face with his own... face?

Too bad the name underneath it wasn't Aito Tomisaburo. It was Ebisu Aburame.

The shock on his face must have shown because the hooded and masked figure began laughing again even as the door to the porta-potty opened to reveal a small pile of crumbled dirt and stone from his now deceased Earth Clone.

"Hehehe, you never did have the chakra capacity for the more taxing jutsus, elite teacher to the Kages."

Aito's body relaxed even as he clung to the wall far above the ground. The air around his face shimmered as a pair of black sunglasses flickered into view.

"I was beginning to wonder if anyone would find me before Danzo-sama did. The old man must be slipping in his advanced years," Ebisu snarked ignoring his former self-proclaimed title.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that human cockroach anymore."

Ebisu blinked, his left hand reaching up to habitually push his glasses back to the bridge of his nose.

The figure below recognized the confusion behind the gesture and finished with, "He's been reduced to ashes and buried in some nameless grave for a few years now."

This time when the chilling laughter returned, Ebisu snarled and leaped off towards his hobby farm. They'd drawn the attention of his fellow workers and a few were coming to investigate the odd noises back by the outhouse. If they saw…this…his cover would be destroyed beyond repair.

That would never do as Ebisu needed time to make a new plan seeing as his "temporary life" might not be so temporary now.

First off though, he needed to dispose of a pest.

As he ran, Ebisu reflected on what he observed. Obviously, this bounty hunter knew more than he should, which meant he was thorough. Ebisu stopped using his family name when he became a Chūnin and could finally afford to leave the clan, something an Aburame never did. It isn't like he had a choice though as he refused to be pitied even among his family.

It wasn't his fault he couldn't merge with a hive.

In fact, it was more like a hive wouldn't merge with him no matter how hard he tried. His genetic defect wasn't as bad as the case with Lee Rock. His coils weren't mangled, they were atrophied but it was bad enough that he couldn't sustain a full hive on his chakra alone. Even worse he'd inherited the clan sensitivity to light leading to his over-reliance on sunglasses, curse his pinkish eyes! What made it worse was how his own clan treated him, like he was some poor deformed abnormality to be pitied and protected.

No! He'd make his own way and if he couldn't be a ninjutsu powerhouse on his own, then he'd refine his abilities to their highest and train the strongest Hokage to ever walk the earth. He'd make his own name Kami-damn them! Damn them all!

The fact that this bounty hunter had his long-discarded clan name meant that the turncoats ratted him out. If Danzo was in fact gone, then he'd never be able to go home and that meant he'd have to make another name for himself.

It was time for Ebisu to die and Aito Tomisaburo to become a great man in a very small pond. A man who brushes the sky can still gain the attention of the Fire Daimyo and, from there, earn a pardon. Yes! That is the path he'd take. Who needs Konoha?

But first, he needed to sever that thread completely.

His foot barely touched down upon the dusty path leading to his front door (and his stash of hidden shinobi weapons) when the sound of metal slicing through air forced him to barrel roll to his left and away from the front porch. A brace of twenty shuriken pocked the ground in rapid-fire succession, most of which vanished into puffs of air as he stared on in frustration.

To be able to literally throw around B-Ranked jutsu like water...

He needed to make it to the living room, to the hearth specifically where he kept a wrapped and well-oiled bundle of deer leather hidden up the chimney flue.

"That's quite enough running from you."

The hunter's voice sounded of gravel grinding against itself inside a kettle drum, the grating noise like small knives thrust into his ears. Shoring up his courage, Ebisu tried to counter by pulsing his chakra to his ears in the hopes that it was an audible Genjutsu.

It wasn't.

In the end, Ebisu gnashed his teeth and resisted the spine-tingling urge to shiver at the sound of that horrible voice. He refused to surrender to this... abomination! He would prevail and hopefully leave his former life behind yet again.

Seeing as his unwanted guest wasn't going to leave peacefully, Ebisu did the only thing he could. He crabbed his way forward with his now woefully unsuitable hunting knife leading the way. Even as he worked to close the distance, the moves he'd practiced and practiced until his bones ached and his fingers bled flittered through his mind as his body slipped fluidly from one stance to the next.

Feint right then slash at his opponent to open space.

Duck, then slip left to sidestep opponent's left-leg kick.

Bob right to duck a surprisingly strong left cross.

Duck again and bob up under his right straight to stab at the nearest armpit.

They were all from the only style he had the chakra to use with Reinforcement. Ebisu gritted his teeth at the potent reminder of how his birth once again held him back and how he railed in his youth about how Goken was forever beyond his reach despite later decrying Lee Rock's success as a fluke of nature. In the elite mind of Ebisu, if he could not match Gai Maito, then it wasn't a style worth learning.

The Floating Leaf, however, was better suited to his particular style of finesse art. He'd worked hard to master Konoha's standard Taijutsu and he felt he was winning up until the booted heel of his opponent crashed into his ribcage sending him hurtling over the small wooden fence of his home.

By the time Ebisu rolled to a stop at the base of his porch stairs, the booted feet of his opponent were casually stepping into his front yard as if he were coming to tea. One hand even gently opened and closed the front gate.

The hubris.

Realizing that he'd dropped his knife during the impromptu flight, Ebisu grimaced as he half-stumbled/ half-crawled up the steps and into his home's entryway slamming the door afterwards.

Something shifted in his ribcage forcing him to grunt in annoyance.

He'd barely gone five steps into the place before a heavy boot shuddered the frame of his small home sending the heavy wooden door off its hinges and to the floor with the crash of shattered wood.

Then the annoying figure blurred in Ebisu's direction, his heavy feet smashing into the bucket he used to keep wood chips to feed his stove. Ebisu's satisfaction with the shinobi basics like Substitution, which just saved him from another round of bone-crushing pain, reached an all-time high.

In a last-ditch effort to protect himself, Ebisu reached up to snatch down his cast-iron skillet and a stainless-steel frying pan, the two improvised weapons serving to deflect the keen-edged blade seeking to slice open his throat with an ear-splitting CLANG!

A quick slash to the back of his forearm and Ebisu had to drop the skillet.

Hoping to open more space, he launched the pan at the hooded figure's head even as he moved to evade on his way to the living room with only the tiny dining area as his only obstacle.

As much as a table big enough for two could be anyway.

With a bone-vibrating growl, the figure's kunai lashed out again and Ebisu dove over the nearby kitchen island he'd finished building three months ago to roll into the dining room (which was actually just part of the kitchen since the farmhouse wasn't that big). Turning his forward dive into a sideways roll, he barreled his way under the dining table scattering chairs as that wicked blade punched through the thick tabletop.

Ebisu snarled in futile rage. He'd carved and planed that table himself.

Pushing himself out from underneath the table and back to his feet, he reached for the kunai handle only to see it snatched from the wood with a sickening crunch. The next thing he knew, forearms clashed painfully as he blocked not one but three brutal blows from the taller man that seemed to blend in to the dim lighting inside his home.

He didn't know this bastard's name but he knew his strength. Those blocks hurt and his forearms were growing numb, everything tingling in a painful "pins and needles" fashion. He wouldn't be able to hold a kunai at this rate let alone fight with one.

Another boot he couldn't even track punted him backwards over his ratty couch and smashing through the hand-carved coffee table he'd spent half a year shaping the surface to look like a three-D model of the Land of Fire. He remembered several successful parties where that piece sparked lots of heart-warming conversation among his new quasi-friends. Cursing his opponent's brutality in addition to the loss of the table, Ebisu forced himself to grimace through a military crawl to the fireplace, his arm scrabbling in and up the flue to grasp the bundle he knew was waiting for him.

Snatching the oiled bundles from its perch, he rose from his knees with his body half turned to face his opponent, his hands already loosening the roll to reveal a neatly arrayed bundle of kunai and shuriken just as a blade pierced through his right shoulder pinning him to the stone front of the hearth.

Amongst the hectic chaos of the chase, everything stilled for just a moment.

Ebisu blinked once as Seika's face flashed across his mind, her beautiful brown hair just beginning to streak with fine lines of grey, her eyes crinkling nicely at the corners as they sat and shared a bottle of wine on the front porch in the fading light of day.

He blinked again as another blade pierced his other shoulder, the soft clinking of a thin chain attached to the end catching his attention. Through the shock and pain, he absently noticed that the first kunai to strike him had a similar one.

Sumire's face, much older now as she smiled from the path leading up to the house bubbled up, her own daughter giggling as she ran up to hug her Jiji. There was a young man with them but his face was blurred out. Ebisu didn't mind as much as he thought he would since he was unimportant in this small fantasy to begin with.

What? Wait, wasn't he doing something important?

THUNK!

Another blink.

THUNK!

His body jerked with each hit, the pain fading to a dull hurt as shock settled in. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew it had to be shock. What else could it possibly be?

Something, a small voice in the back of his mind, confirmed casually that shock must have begun setting in and Ebisu blithely grunted in agreement.

By the time his hidden weapon cache hit the still unpolished wooden floorboards, Ebisu knew he'd never get the chance to finish that latest project now and his eyes glanced up from the mass of golden chains and into the masked face of his killer standing less than an arm length away.

"I hope... (cough)… you are… (gasp)... happy..." the dying man rasped out.

There was no comment in return and Ebisu grunted at the rudeness, especially after the effort he put in just to speak after being staked to his chimney as he was.

He had to pause to draw enough air to continue. One side of his chest felt heavy and it was getting harder to breathe with his lungs filling up with fluid.

'One of those blades probably punctured a lung,' his self-diagnosis almost clinical in its dispassion.

Ebisu really wanted that annoying voice to shut up and stop commentating in such an unemotional fashion on his death. It seemed so impolite.

He realized that the sickly warm fluid now bubbling out of one side of his mouth was most likely his own blood but he pictured it all with a detached haze as more images of his life flashed through his mind.

Those images made him want to weep at their loss.

"...p-pain you...Su…Sumire," Ebisu wheezed something unintelligible as the figure before him reached up to tug down the mask covering his face to reveal shockingly blue eyes over six matching whisker marks.

The stranger didn't speak but, then again, he didn't need to. Ebisu knew who he was and the sickly laughter frothing pinkish at the other corner of his mouth said as much.

When the light and demented laughter finally left the former elite Jounin's eyes, Uzumaki Naruto replaced one-for-one his kunai-tipped chakra chains with the well-oiled tools Ebisu had hidden away in his chimney.

He left the body staked spread-eagle to the wall for his friends and loved ones to find two days later, the wanted poster pinned to his chest with one of Ebisu's own freshly-oiled blades.

~III~

Final Comments: There was a guest comment about the last few chapters seeming random. They aren't. The last of the cobwebs will be cleared in the next one as we come to a close with the fanfiction experiment. Next focus will be "Nature of the Savage Beast" and more "Pieces."

This story has felt like a slog but I'm looking forward to a change of literary pace this year.

Be good and be kind to each other and I'll see you in the next chapter.

~Siva'a