"...Pivoting now to local news, in recent weeks gang violence has seen an upsurge within Tokyo Metropolitan, primarily in Kita, Nerima, Arakawa, Minato, and Itabashi wards. Known collectively as the "Five Kings", the upswing is mostly attributed to yakuza activity and to notorious bosozoko biker gang The Fangs. Whose leader Inuzuka Kiba-"

"THAT JAGOFF AIN'T THE LEADER!"

"Naruto!" Sakura grabs the side of his head, and damn almost slams it into his lap. "Keep. It. Down!"

Naruto spits the painkillers out at the tv and looks over toward Sakura irate. "Yuhi-san has been lied to, Sakura-chan. Fake news! That son of a bitch can't even lead his dog, and now they're calling him the leader of the Fangs? Somebody has to write in and fact-check this shi-OWOW!"

If there was a circle in hell where nipples would be twisted eternally, Sakura would its lead devil as Naruto immediately was transported back to being five years old again. She holds him down, straddles his waist and before he could yelp shoves a sock in his mouth. Under better circumstances this actually would've been a top ten moment for him, if the tell-tale motion of Comrade Morino's shadow hadn't passed by the threshold of his door.

Sakura fumes when she gets in close, threatening him with the worst beating of his miserable life if he decides to make another goddamned foolish comment about writing anything to anyone south of the wall for whatever reason. "I would personally take great pleasure seeing you strung up by your balls and be beaten to an inch of your life, if you make any more fucking noise like that again, do you understand me, Comrade Uzumaki?"

The shadow hesitates, stops, and looks to notice the voice of a pretty woman on the small cube laying on his floor. Their heartbeats pound in tandem within their chests as realization of a scarred bald head crashing through the door feels like a very real nightmare. Luckily - thankfully - the shadow moves on, with nothing but the sound of a terrible heating system and Kurenai Yuhi's voice reaching them.

"To counteract this recent crime wave Police Commissioner Yamato has assembled a task force to pose a direct front. Word from our Mayor's office says they have complete confidence in Captain Yamato's capabilities, saying they will be more than sufficient in stamping out the issue come time for the Summer Olympics next year. Prosecutor General Chiriku hopes to see results within the month..."

Transmission # 3-3-7-1. Designate: Night Ride

South of The Wall, Tokyo Metropolitan, Shinjuku Ward

Ichiraku Ramen Stand

21:40 hrs; November 4, 1963

Naruto's favorite story growing up was the tale for Icarus.

He didn't get many stories told to him on the north side. If there was nothing to do about glorious sacrifice, The Four Pillars, or the mystified nature of the Noble One then they simply didn't exist. And or were lies spread to diminish and distract believers of the revolution. But Icarus enchanted him from when he was little. A story which Iruka-sensei himself told him actually on one of those rare occasions when the sake was too much, his belly too full, and the night long.

A little like this one.

The sweet and tangy taste of the ramen broth pools at the corners of his lips, small rivulets running down in red streams as he upends the large white bowl. This was his sixth - he could go for more, Ichiraku being his favorite stop-off before every drop-off. But the hour was late, and the Harajuku lights were beginning to burn bright. Like the sun in Icarus's myth, melting away the wax feathers so that he fell back down to earth.

Iruka probably told him the story as some sort of warning; beware the height of pride or some shit like that, for its fall is long and hard like the dong of that tranny eye-balling him from across the bar. Naruto had to give it to the guy, though. Straight brown hair that wasn't a wig, oval face, right amount of makeup - the powdery stuff, not too thick; with a tight green dress accentuating all the right curves. Certainly could make any guy look twice if they weren't careful, or, if they were looking for that kind of thing in the first place.

"Old man, I'm out!" Naruto throws up a finger for Teuchi, who squints at him behind the stove.

"You finish fast." He says in his thick Okinawan accent. The carving nice and spatula whirl about in his hand like he was the best street magician you'd ever see. Sautéing the minced garlic and shrimp, mixing it in with the fired rice, and swirling it about over a hot top that's seen so many good days.

"Yep, I'm done. Gotta go to work. Fantastic as usual."

Naruto doesn't wait for Ayame - Teuchi's daughter - to hand the check before throwing down a wad of yen from the bag. It could've paid paid for his meal and some extra, but it was money well-deserved. Ever since the first run he did at thirteen, Teuchi and Ayame took care of him no questions. Never once did they bat an eye at his blue eyes, blonde hair, and obviously that he could speak Japanese more fluidly than any gaijin could or should.

He chalked it up to them being simple working people who didn't bother with where it was cash came from; as long as it was good and could be spent, no one wondered how a teenager could splurge so much by himself. Everyone here had a story. Teuchi's was born out of a refugee camp down south. When the Allied landings happened, it was only he and his daughter who managed to make it to safety. Naruto never asked about a wife - figured he didn't earn that right yet.

But Teuchi was ever affable and never stingy when it came to serving sizes. Always pulling all the stops for his best customer going on four years now.

"Take care of yourself tonight, Naruto. Be sure to stay safe." Ayame calls out.

A wave and a smile tells her not to worry, it'll be quick for him, that they should make sure to save up the scallions the next time he comes round. "And make it spicier next time, too! I want heat - I'm no baby."

The haven Naruto leaves behind is the last bit of safety here on out: everything beyond this small ramen stand tucked in an alcove off Chome and Nakata, with the backyard lights and paper lanterns is considered "no man's land", "enemy territory", with dragons and monsters and all kidns of nasty things meant to drag him into the depths of seedy underbelly. Granted, it does stink a bit. His sneakers definitely slap against puddles which are more than only water, and beyond all the dazzling bar signs and storefronts are alleyways dark enough to hide anyone, and small enough which makes it perfect for an ambush.

They were perfect for Naruto, though.

Turning quick to the left, a long street paves its way to the center of Shinjuku. There anything you could want from clothes, makeup, games, gambling, women, guys, the occasional meat on a stick, and or live performance of any number of performers looking for some spare change at the end of the night. With a big smile on his face, Naruto huffs the bag over his shoulder and takes in a breath. Coast was clear, far as he could see. Even if someone did see him, not like it would matter anyways. He'd been made a few times before, but Tokyo Metropolitan Police had their hands full with more pressing matters than a rogue ninja with blonde hair running about.

Muscles tense as the blood pushes through his veins, the already tight jeans he wore straining against his calves when he pushes off with a giant leap. He clears the first two floors of the tenement building easy. Popping off one windowsill, he jumps to the wall opposite, zigzagging his way up a fire-escape to the roof.

Barely does it break a sweat for him.

Looking down at the city below, Shinjuku alight with a Christmas-come-early sort of feel, Icarus can feel himself get antsy at the world before his eyes. Before it was nothing more than a myth to him what he could achieve, but with a bag full of possibilities he became more an asset than anything the State Committee or the Iruka could ever fathom. With their uniform doctrine of solidarity through conformity, hemming and hawing over one is all, and all is one. That the "betterment" of mankind lay in killing off the individual. Arrogance was an affront to The Noble One's teachings.

But as Naruto teetered off the ledge, the feeling of weightlessness overtaking him, the thrill of seeing Tokyo Harbor to his right and the large rainbow bridge in its center, made him forget all about the revolution, and want to be something else.

Not the Hokage; the leader of their Hidden Village of the Leaves, and the strongest and most respected of their sect.

Back when he was a kid, it's what he wished for so badly.

Born out of a desire to be accepted, admired, something the villagers could depend on and want. But as the years passed and he got older, as the punishments grew harder and the thrill of being recruited by Mizuki excited him. As his free-fall took him down into a cascade of reds, blues, yellows, and garish green lights; large Kanji signs advertising all you could ever imagine at the tips of your fingers. Now, alls he wanted to be was Uzumaki Naruto.

That was his ninja way, and no one was going to tell him it was the wrong way either.

The ward of Shinkuju flew beneath as another breath sees his feet firmly planted on the side of the wall. he takes off at a soring down the building, springs off the side of another. Chakra courses through, and it feels like he's breathing in extra oxygen in his lungs. Seconds turns blocks of the city into mere flashes as he flies by like a hellion straight out of a rocket.

Streets crowded with peoople go by underneath uncaring of his shadow. The people on this side of the Ara river don't really pay that much attention to the finer details. Tunnel vision is a common symptom among those of a middle class ever seeking its way up. Men and women work in tandem to climb a ladder much like he did in Konoha. Only difference is their worth isn't determined by chakra control, jutsu practice, or daily shuriken training. That's one downside, Naruto admits; if he were plopped over here, maybe he wouldn't be able to do any of...well, this.

"Sigh..." Another deep breath propels him forward past the checkpoint into Chuo ward.

The meeting place was designated at a different spot by the harbor this time, per the orders of the middlemen coordinating the drop. Gato preferred to keep everyone guessing as to who it was be dishing out the goods and the cash. Keeps him at a safe distance, and helped whittle down some the chaff of lesser gangs. Help was the utmost concern of the operation, and if Gato didn't trust one group, then he could always rely on some other goon squad willing to front eh muscle for some easy money.

However, there was always a stalwart whom Naruto had dubious relations since taking on the role as a runner.

More and more he'd been showing up in the recent meetings. Showing how fucking resilient the jerk could be despite his an otherwise asshole demeanor, and how much the Fangs ahve moved up in Gato's hierarchy. Sure, they'd been a common enough sight since the end of the Great War. A bunch of washed up army vets with nowhere to go, but the bikes to take them anywhere they friggin wanted. Been a pain in Metro police's asses since '52 during the Keijo riots, where a bunch of homeless veterans decided to ride up city halls stairs and trash the building.

They shut down the city for a whole day.

Other local biker gangs got involved, too. The 88's, Busaiku Thunder, Kazinare. It was so bad the local garrison from the JSDF and American Sixth had to show up before all of Tokyo was taken over. Inuzuka Keijo was the leader of The Fangs then. Naruto remembers sifting through old newspaper articles to see the man. All shaggy hair and crazy eyes, looking like the mad dog he was notorious of riding with in the sidecar of his Indian Road Champion. In the end, Keijo was ridden through by machine gun fire in front of the Government Building after a four hour stand-off.

Most everyone thought that would be the end of The Fangs as it were, but they were wrong.

Much to Naruto's annoyance.

A hard step pushes him off the rusted sign of a meat processing plant not far from the rest of the warehouses near Tokyo Bay. Chuo was by no means a poorer, but the gruff nature of its blue collar work ethic was a stark contrast from where Naruto came. Businesses and other blocks were blackened out by closed doors and shift times detailing the 9-5's employees were greeted with five days out of the week.

Another heave of his lungs and the pulsing force throws his feet into another gear, propelling along the side of one warehouse facing due east. Smell of salt water and brine is apparent, along with gasoline and maker's oil for all the cargo ships at dock. Giant behemoths languish lopsided in a dashing current, bouncing with each swell. Red freighter lights and lighthouse outposts dot the horizon of an unending sea, the great barrier which hems Naruto in more than any wall could. Sliding down the weathered concrete sides of the warehouse, with one final push-off Naruto leaps toward the neat, orderly line of metal boxes. Tokyo Tower was due southeast of his position at a 62 degrees - meaning he wasn't far.

Rusted red and green and blue painted steel blend in a blur of speed. In his mind, he's mapping out where the clearing could be based on the time of night and, oddly enough, which direction the wind was blowing. Yeah, he didn't figure why the hell he needed to be downwind in order to meet with these assholes. The Fangs were weird like that, acting a lot like the animals each of'em tagged along with. Honestly, there were times Naruto couldn't tell if they just hammed up it due to reputation, or if they really believed they were actually dogs.

As he clears over one cargo crate, large white letters of YAMAHA plastered over it, to his left out of reach from the industrial light poles a clearing is noticed. Out in the midst of the loading depot, a lot was cleared away in a section clearly quartered. Industrial equipment are spread all around, along with a line of forklifts acting as a bit of a barricade for one end of the entryway. A massive looming claw ported near the side of the water hangs overhead, a large '10' emblazoned in yellow paint.

There,Naruto sees.

One giant leap clears him of the final three crates in his path, and he drops twenty-two feet onto the hard concrete. Speed and momentum carry him forward as his sneakers slide against the moist asphalt, making the finish line in good time. "Shit," he laughs. Sweat pools at the top of his forehead. A quick look at the watch on his wrist tells him he's missed his best time.

Fuck me, by only ten seconds. Son of a...The knapsack falls of his shoulders.

He remembered there was a time in his life he wouldn't have been able to make it up a tree. Thankfully, he wasn't that hopeless anymore. He had plenty to thank Sakura for that, with all their daily training sessions for chakra and breathing and believing in the cause and the reason he wasn't getting it was because he didn't believe hard enough... The memories make him shake his head at the thought. "If I have to hear 'believe it' one more time I might shoot myself in the foot."

That he could believe.

For serious.

And also the gut instinct knowing as he stooped down in a crouch, to catch his breath and rubs the pins and needles out of his legs, that he wasn't alone in the clearing. Which was good, because like them he hated waiting for a good thing. They had the goods and he had the money - no more reason to dally for effect. Yet, the bosozuku are ever characters for posterity; half their shtick was theatrics anyhow.

The beam of at least two dozen lights break the night as if Lucifer himself came down from heaven. From the small, cramped avenues between the crates beasts of steel emerge. Roar of engines shake the earth, shiver the air, and make the hair on the back his neck stand on edge. It mixes with the tell-tale sound of whooping, and hollering, and barking as The Fangs come out to reveal themselves. Black leather, white scarves, and a whole mess of bad intentions stemming from shitty childhoods. Their colors weren't flashy - two red teeth against a white background, the kanji 噛む plastered right above.

It is the word "Kamu".

"Bite".

Hitting home the whole obsession with dogs these weirdos have.

However, though they weren't the best or brightest, Naruto's heard the stories of these inscrutable makes their way over the wall to his neck of the woods. One of the causes for why the Sate suggests the south must be cleansed of such "improprieties", who stain Japan with dishonor and sin. Gato didn't give a rat's ass about that, though. The Fangs were good muscle for a cheap job, and like dogs they were loyal. The harbor had been under his control for fourteen years since taking over the Shijimi Yakuza from old boss Hiro, and since The Fangs have operated in itwith impunity.

Mostly, thanks to one individual.

Amongst his boys he cuts a looming reminder of the type of boogeymen produced in Tokyo Metropolitan's confining streets. Tall by Japanese standards, with a sickly gray pall about his skin. Bandages covered his arms and face from the fire bomb which failed to kill him during the war. Naruto knew about him even before his smuggling days, where he and his friends used to talk about the ghost stories and urban legends. Said to be a former imperial officer tasked with the defense of the home islands. He was there at Okinawa, Kyushu, and the Battle for the Kanto Plain; and managed to survive it all. Kirigakure no Kijin - the "Demon in the hidden mist".

Many called him cursed; Gato said he's useful.

And as the headlights from a dozen or so bikes circled round Naruto, alighting the man's gaze in one moment, and then throwing back into shadow; the leader of The Fangs - the true leader since ol' Keiji's death, sat atop his steel horse chromed to the teeth. The frayed and beaten leather vest displaying the gang's colors is mottled by time, grease and only the spirits knew what else. His arms are bare. Save for the mottled skin sitting atop thickly corded muscles. His arms look to be able to snap a tree in half. Or, more apt, able to wield that damning zanpakuto hitched to the back his Fat Boy able to cleave off a horse's head.

Or mine,Feeling like one of those pioneer women on the American frontier surrounded by Indians, Naruto gulped to sweat realizing he became the bullseye of a target without the grace of John Wayne to ride in and protect him.

Then the engines calmed, the hollering quieted, and dogs stopped barking.

All became still as Momochi Zabuza made himself known.

"You're late, errand boy."

"Tell me again how you managed to pick a fight with Zabuza and live to talk about it?" She's rifles through the supplies before closing the lid to her neat little aid kit. "I mean, not that it's cool or anything, but...You saw him up close, didn't you? Is it true he files his teeth into points?"

"Nah." Making sure to not get in the way of the gauze, he gently slides his shirt over the bandages. "Well, like, I don't know THAT for sure. He's usually got his face wrapped up with bandages or something."

"So it's true his face is all fried?! I heard it was 'cus while he was charging an American position, a flamethrower went and roasted him?" She says, almost too excitedly.

"Umm...I-I don't know. Maybe?"

"Or was it 'cus he was one of the survivors from Hiroshima? They say he was right underneath the blast when the bomb went off and the radiation went and turned his skin all blotchy gray and stuff?"

There weren't many things Sakura-chan got in a tizzy for. Mostly it had to deal with the inner mechanics of her Kalashnikov, first aid, and the State run entertainment "happy-joy" hours held every Friday. But seeing her russet colored eyes come to life the way they are now, her infectious smile bringing up the corners of her round face, her smooth sun kissed skin from the endless days of training, to the way the uniform accentuated the slight curves of her narrow hip-...

"Hello? Are you even listening to me?"

"Huh?"

He half expected a fist to break him from his reverie, but instead thankfully she only gives him a quizzically worried look. She puts her hand up under her chin and quirks her heard to the side. "Maybe they did hit you harder than I thought. I should put in another evaluation for you at the hospital. They'll know what to do for you more than I can."

"No, no, I'm okay, Sakura-chan. Please, I heard you, I...I don't know anything about Zabuza. This is the first time I saw him."

He lied. Which was a dangerous thing.

Usually it wasn't noticeable, but the slight change in her expression told him to tread carefully now; she was training to work internal affairs after all.

"What were you doing by the harbor again?" She asks innocently enough, but Naruto knew her long enough to sense she was fishing.

As she knew he would do everything in his power to NOT give a straight answer.

"I was only checking out the bridge," he started shuffling on his feet, but still keeping her gaze; if he looked away, she knew he was only scrambling. "Harbor's got the best view for it. It lights up like a rainbow."

"You went over The Wall to see a bridge?" She presses.

He's a head taller than her, maybe a little more, as she's boxing him in like a prize fighting champ. His back hits up against his bureau, threatening to knock the scant possessions he owned - a small red scarf, a comically large pair of headphones, and record player cobbled together with bits and pieces - off and to the floor. She doesn't look angry at him; in fact, it's quite the opposite. Calm, measured, with a dusky expression upon her face, and her lips pursed in curiosity. Any other time you'd think it was simply her asking what time it was, or what he'd had for breakfast.

This is how all interior police operated, though. From the few altercations Naruto's had with them, these tactics were par the course detail extraction. Sakura played it off too well despite being young. If she were a little less on the nose with it, maybe - MAYBE - she would've gotten him. Good thing he knew just the thing to get her off her base.

"Yeah, it's real pretty, ya know." He says giving her a half smile - the goofier the better. "These lights at their base, well, they give off different colors and stuff. At night it looks like a giant rainbow across the water. It's kind of amazing. So, next time... maybe...I don't know...Wanna go check it out together?"

"Don't joke about that with me, Naruto." The barb in her voice tells him he's on thin ice, but in a better way than before; now at least she can get angry at his incessant crush, than his actual goings on. "Heading south is off limits for genin or chunin without a captain present. If it wasn't for Comrade-Sensei Kakashi, I'd report you myself."

"Yeah, you'd really do that?"

"Of course, I would. It's my job."

Naruto breaks away from her and heads to the foot of his bed. The army-grade, highly durable knapsack is there along with the rest of its effects. It's torn up a bit from teh claw marks and slightly singed, but overall it looks okay. Thankfully, he says breathing a sigh of relief. Opening it up to rummage through, he can feel Sakura's temper rise behind him. Because of all the predictably unpredictable jerks she's been around, he possessed the uncanny ability of getting directly under her skin.

Why couldn't he listen for once, she thinks, and not act so arrogant. One of the core tenets of The Noble One was to kill pride for the sake of union. Naruto learned that just as well as she did, so why didn't it stick?

"So you mean to tell me you went to Tokyo to see a 'rainbow bridge', by the harbor side, all while Zabuza Momochi and The Fangs happen to be there? And at the same time you manage picked a fight with them?"

"Sigh...that's not exactly how it went down, Sakura-chan." Naruto tells her, as he pulls a large manilla paper square from the bag.

She walks over to the bed mindful fo the creaking floorboards. Naruto's sad, tired look watches her when she makes herself cozy at the end of his mattress, glaring at him as she plops herself down, leg crossed over another, folding her hands neatly on her lap. The sound of Kurenai's voice has become white noise in the background, along with slight moan of this old dormitory. It struggles to make sense of itself, nothing seems to work; kind of like how Sakura saw Naruto.

Fine.

He relents knowingshe won't let him go till he's told her something, anything, resembling a morsel of honesty. Least, so she won't go cryin to the nearest commisar for brownie points. Sad to think, but her showing up at his door tonight made him think she indeed was going to try and interrogate him. Did he think she would do it? No. Did he think she could? Honestly, yes. Sakura never minced feelings when it came to the rules, and Naruto not caring for them at all. Also, that he got his butt saved by Sasuke only strengthened the notion Naruto was...how did the American GI's refer to it? Numbah 10?

"How did it go down then? Tell me. I want to know." She asks him. Earnestly, without a hint of derision or ire...

Which could make it a trap, but he tells her anyway.

Because after all she was Numbah 1.

And if it meant anything else, he didn't want her thinking he couldn't hold his own. Even if it wasn't against Zabuza necessarily.