Transmission #8-1-5-8
North Side the Wall, Tokyo Urban; Hidden Village: "Leaf"
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Subject 9 ca- #(*$
December, ßπå®˚¬´∂ ˆ˜ †˙´ 19†'ß
He didn't belong here.
That much Naruto knew. As he found himself once again navigating the drowned-out labyrinth, this twisted reflection of what once was his former life, to find the auburn haired man with those dazzling eyes staring back at him. He found the man there among the bombed out, sheltered hallways which left little desirable. Doors line a path, dripping and flamed out debris on either side of them like the pathways through a graveyard; the Gonokawa River - it is bleeding. There's no telling how much longer the bunker complex has holding back the rush of water.
They had little time.
As was always the case, Naruto thought. But as that amber gaze stared out from the darkness, glimmering like hot embers boring into him, Naruto catches something he was curious to find: surprise.
Genuine surprise.
The stranger is confused, straightens himself up to his full height, backs away from one of the blow-out cell doors near blown off its hinges.
"...Что ты здесь делаешь...?"
"What are you doing there?"
The bomb drill's alarm rings out like a siren calling them to the Styx. It beats against Naruto's head like the thump of a heartbeat, his headache being the only painkiller to ward away the sting of these cuts and burns. He takes a step forward, and the stranger in kind does so in reverse. Again, Naruto questions why he's here. He shouldn't be - the complex is off-limits; he's never seen this man before in his life. "What are you looking for?" He accuses.
"...Qu'est-ce que tu cherches...?"
Again the challenge is met by cold silence, a distant stare; the auburn-haired stranger pauses for the briefest of moments. There's no malice there, only a strange, quiet curiosity. The echoes of his footfalls round out as he suddenly takes off and vanishes down the corridor.
"Wait, stop!"
Gritting his teeth, Naruto sprints after him; but he's slow. He tries to take in a breath, trying to pull in the chakra as he was taught, but there's nothing. The walls around him groan and shift as if trying to trap him, its oppressive dark closing in. The air grows thicker, the corridors narrower, as he passes by each cell block door; they are the tombs of so many lost subjects, so many failed tests he couldn't keep track of them all. Their occupants were either dead or dying now - for not much could've survived the blast.
It was a miracle he made it out unscathed.
More and more water splashes about his feet, the river puncturing through the last defenses the complex had. Turning a corner, Naruto sees the intruder ahead of him; he's fast - faster than Naruto was at the moment, and kept leading him deeper into the lab's bowels. For that is where Frau Doktor opted to keep her, where she believed the experiment could best be handled. "Far away from the others," she told him. "Far away from distraction."
The faster he pushed himself, the quicker his body began to fail on him; the water splashing about his feet grew deeper, his lab coat behind being caught in its drag, these scrawny and untrained legs unused to physical exertion. What is wrong with me -WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?! Naruto nearly gasps, sputters, and chokes; jumping over blown out bits of wall, minding his head for falling debris, trying his hardest not to look at the melted remains of his colleagues. He shuts his eyes, bites his cheek; these people were the closest thing to a family he ever knew. Now forever enshrined as black outlines against these sad, gray walls.
Another corner they pass now; Naruto recognizes still the blue lines painted along the wall, leading them to Sector 471. Trying to keep pace, he does his best to chase down the man, but the many corridors are serpentine and winding. He keeps running till his lungs feel like their on fire, till soon the scorched blue paint fades away, and the cell block doors end. Naruto finds himself in a vast, circular chamber; its ceiling cavernous, with its top lost in shadow. A tall, towering coil in the center reaches up like a finger, attempting to touch darkness's edge, but it's impossible; he knows there's at least another kilometer or so between the coil's tip and where the dome above ends. At its base, wires snake out like veins from a rusted console. Here, the trespasser stops. Alighted by the eerie glow of a single, flickering monitor.
"Step away from there?" Naruto demanded, determined to get to the bottom of this. "Why are you after her?"
The stranger turns slowly this time, his face calm but his eyes blazing with intensity. The blueish-white sheen of the monitor paints his features, making him appear clearer; obvious he's soldierly man, astute and proud. The contours of his face precise, hewn from hours of countless training sessions and strict dieting. Could he be a guard here? He's certainly wearing the uniform of one, Naruto ponders. Yet, none he ever encountered here looked so striking; most here were raw recruits and dregs. All the rest of the proper fighting men were taken to fend off the invasion.
"It's not quite her I'm after," he says to Naruto, voice smooth and deep. "It's you, Comrade Uzumaki."
He froze, heart pounding in his ears.
Comrade Uzumaki?
So he was looking for her! But why? Why was he referring to him by the surname given to Kira when she was transferred Japan? Instinctively, Naruto's hand goes to the Luger pistol all scientists were equipped with. Not for protection, for there was only a single bullet within. It was there just in case the cyanide pills ran out. "Step AWAY from the console." Naruto commands once more.
The man steps closer, his movements deliberate. "You're mind is being twisted, Comrade. What you are seeing, what you are feeling, what you believe to be real - this is not meant for you. But I'm here to help. Please, assist me with this, will you?" His amber eyes nod toward the console and the sputtering screen. "Assuredly, this will go by a lot easier if you do."
"Assist you?" The gun trembles in Naruto's hand.
"You've forgotten why you've built this maze in the first place." His tone wasn't accusatory, but it carries an unsettling certainty. "You can't save her, because you can't even save yourself. You don't even know who you are at the moment. But this will help." The console for the tachyon coil sits unused; Frau Doktor explicitly gave instruction under no circumstances was it to be operated without her supervision. Yet, where she was, who could say...
The last he saw of her, she was coming down here to initiate the test.
Then, hell caved in everything around them.
Who knows, she could be buried under a pile of concrete right now.
Or, burnt into oblivion like all the other melted corpses here; could she be one of those he unwittingly passed?
Or maybe she was vaporized when the sealing commenced, and Kira began to lose control.
"Stay where you are - Don't move!" Naruto says, pointing the Luger towards the man.
"Show me what you know," he urges, lips curling into a faint, enigmatic smile. "Show me what you're hiding."
"I'm not hiding anything. Stay back!"
"彼を信用しない..."
"You're not even sure if it's you holding the gun right now, or someone else." The man's voice bounces off the cavern's walls, the monitor in the background flashing a slew of pictures he can't make out. "Assist me; tell me the truth, and it'll be over."
"...Es wird nie vorbei sein..."
Naruto pulls back on the action, leveling his shaking arm as he points, takes aim, right between those damning eyes. The bullet in the chamber wasn't meant for him, but what choice did he have? He had to protect her and himself; the auburn haired man - the enemy - can never find out.
"You want to know yourself, too. You tell everyone you don't care, that it doesn't matter, but it does. That much I can find. You want to know, and so do I. Let us help each other."
The screen in the background flies through a litany of moments, scenes, instances of Naruto's jumbled life; the numbers try to make sense of it all, playing out in the sequence Bridge Builder gave him, of what he remembers Frau Doktor telling him. Surprise once more flashes across those golden, perfect amber eyes. Bright and entrapping like the warmth of a soft spring sun...
And fear, too.
As the bang of a shot cries out, the Luger's round leaving its chamber, to bury itself into the skull of this interloper...
Naruto exhales a sigh of relief, lets the soothing calm of quiet wash over him once more, until a familiar voice brings him back into the world.
"Naruto?" She calls to him, and he answers.
He looks up from his cupped hands, hunched over in his chair, and gazes over towards her concerned face. They weren't close - not by a long shot. But it was obvious Matsuri looked worried about him. He tells her he's a little overworked from his last session with Comrade Samui; she didn't so much as bombard him with questions, as much as somehow pulling the words from his mouth with her silence. It was nerve-wracking - never knowing if her being quiet was a good sign, or bad. Naruto was always good at reading people, yet his ROOT intelligence officer was a hard one to read. All she ever did was one five questions, scribble down his answers, and maybe once or twice ask him to elaborate.
He couldn't wait for his days to be done with her.
"I'm fine, really. Just tired is all." He says to Matsuri, shrugging his shoulders. "With everything else that's going on, it's like I can't really catch a break."
She blushes, gripping at the hospital bed's sheets. She tells him it's necessary he come and check on them. She and Mikoshi weren't his teammates, there was no expectation. "Shibire hasn't really come by to check on us, but I sorta figured he wouldn't."
"Yeah, well, Shibire is a jerk."
"I think he's just a little ashamed he wasn't the one to save us." She says.
"Hard to save anyone when you hightail back to the entrance." Naruto goes, rolling his eyes. Matsuri looks away, embarrassed; by this point everyone knew what happened to Matsuri's teammate. After Shino Aburame's ambush, he didn't only decide to run away - he quit the entire test altogether; ANBU found him near five klicks away from the training site.
Naruto was unsure if he should be annoyed at Shibire's cowardice, or laugh at how ironically convenient it was he did so.
"As long as you're okay; all I wanted to check up on. How much longer they going to keep you here?" Naruto asks.
Not much longer, Matsuri says; the only reason they're keeping her and Mikoshi is because they'd like for the wasp toxin to fully leave their systems. Once it does, they'll be free to go. "The anti-venom shots aren't so bad anymore. Before it was practically every hour. Now we're only getting them once every day."
"Cool, good," he lies.
Slapping his knees, he gets up from his seat. He tells Matsuri he's got to be off, but he's glad she's doing a lot better. Mikoshi, too. He'll pop in again soon to check how she's doing, but if she'd rather rest, he'd get it. Most important thing for her right now was to relax, heal up...
And be safe...
He doesn't say this last thought aloud. Though the ROOT presence in the hospital grew sparse since the attack, armed Sendai guards still walked up and down the hallways. They posted up mostly around wards with victims from the Watchtower. One day as Naruto went to check in on Comrade-Sensei Kakashi, he was rudely stopped and told he needed clearance. "The patients need rest and care. Only select doctors and nurses may pass. If you wish to see your injured comrades, return with one of them, and MAYBE we'll grant you access."
Easier said than done; Yokosuka was a stick in the ass, who'd never allow a civilian to tag-along with him, and Kawada wasn't one of the doctors assigned to care for the patients. Tsubaki said she and other nurses switched off on shifts, but even then the turnaround Hospital was hard to figure. "They're only allowing a team of six or seven nurses at any one time to help. And even then, it's all under heavy watch. You had leeway earlier, but not anymore," Tsubaki warns.
They're turning it into a regular fortress Konoha, Naruto thinks, as he rummages through Tree Leaf's blood bank.
The air inside the storage was cold, and he rubs his hands together. Party to keep away the pins and pricks of numbness, but more so to steady his nerves. Tsubaki reminds him he doesn't have a lot of time. Five minutes tops. He crouches down along the rows of shelves, scanning the meticulously labeled vials under the flickering fluorescent lights.
"All of them are labeled in alphabetical order," she says, glancing around the corner of the doorway. "Find who you need and get out of here. Hurry!" Her tone is sharp and measured, as the black ponytail swishes back and forth while she scans the hall. "I can't stick around. I'm running a double, plus I'm covering for another. The attack really sent us over the edge. We're short on everything now. Help, bandages, meds. And what's worse, the goddamn ROOT's stopping any kind of aid coming in."
"They're holding us hostages to make Asuma give up the scroll; I know." Naruto undoes the wrapping holding the hunter's scroll together. He places it on the tile floor, and unravels it. The parchment is blank at first, until he performs an ox sign. Slowly, black ink bleeds on through to reveal a map of the Hidden Leaf.
Tsubaki tells him to be fast, and not get greedy; the shortage has caused staff to start making inventory. All what the hospital had was being monitored in case of an emergency, which judging by Kaneko's worsening condition seemed almost a daily thing. Her swift footsteps then fade down the hallway, the telltale clack of her heels echoing softly until all Naruto was left with was the soft drone of the freezer's motor.
"Okay, okay...", he mutters to himself fingers skimming over the neatly arranged vials, their glass surfaces cool to the touch. "Asuma...Asuma...", he whispers, his frustration mounting as he struggles to decipher the cramped writing. "Alphabetical order, my ass." He grumbles; the neat little system Tsubaki promised not helping. Shuffling through the shelves, his eyes dart back and forth hurriedly. "How many ways can a name be spelled and still sound exactly the same."
But finally, mercifully, five rows down on the second shelf, and not anywhere where the "S's" were, his eyes catch it: "Sarutobi, Asuma".
"Gotcha!" He hissed triumphantly, plucking the vial from its spot.
Carefully, he uncorks the rubber stopper with a small pop. A dab of blood coats his fingertip, thick and dark, and wipes it on the sealing circle where Mizuki instructed. He performs the dog hand sign, the bloody stain disappears, and the he waits. Seconds stretch on, each one feeling longer than the last. For a moment, Naruto even worries if he messed up the seal. But soon as his doubt crept in, faint black kanji forming a name begin to form.
"There you are," Naruto says as Asuma's name appears clearly on the map. Intricate lines slowly resolve into an image - a bird's eye view of the Hokage Tower, its shape unmistakable. Asuma looks to be pacing in his office, apparently. Along with another name trailing right behind.
Uchiha, Sasuke.
Naruto's eyes widened in surprise. "What the hells..."
Ever since the scroll was put in his possession, Naruto had been on a small mission obtaining as many names as he could. The daily psyche evaluations at the hospital provided a good enough cover for him to sneak into Tree Leaf's blood locker when possible. Despite the extra guards everywhere else, so far Naruto'd gotten lucky: no one but medical personnel came by this part of the hospital.
Tsubaki's name floated about on the map, along with Mizuki's - he was off by the gatehouse. Guard duty, most likely. Naruto retrieved Sakura's, Karachi's and Iruka's here the other day, and Sasuke's ever since Naruto swiped his chopsticks the last time they'd eaten lunch together. The dried little bit on the snapped wood had been enough, and Naruto had been using the shinigami map since to track his friend's whereabouts. Most days, Sasuke was predictable: either at the Uchiha compound or the training fields.
But now...Sasuke was with Lord Third.
Naruto frowns; normally, he wouldn't think anything of this. Sasuke was ANBU; obviously, he'd report to the Sandaime regarding the goings on of Konoha. But Asuma was being stonewalled into house arrest - no one was allowed to see him, let alone speak with him. Unless under strict ROOT supervision. "Protection" acting ROOT Director Chikuma Koshiro stated.
A tough load to swallow by Naruto's take.
Plus, the ANBU have been marginalized to now only conducting recon around Fuji. And Sasuke had been on no such reconnaissance missions at all. Least, the shinigami map didn't show he had.
"What are you both up to?" Naruto murmured, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.
The sound of heavy footfalls in the hall snaps Naruto from his thoughts. Deftly, he rewraps the map, shoves the vial back into its place, and wipes his hands clean on his pants before making his way to the door. Tsubaki said five minutes; he'd be pushing it if he stayed any longer. Quietly, smoothly, he slips from the storage and turns the corner right as the armed squad comes into view; three armed men - two from Sendai armed with Type 61 AKM's, and one from Konoha carrying a PPSh-43; one proud, haughty ROOT officer whose chest hung heavy with medals on his black uniform; Dr. Yokosuka with his balding pate and clipboard...
And Sakura.
She follows close behind, white lab coat over her commissar uniform; he must've missed her name as he hurriedly put the map away. They all make a beeline through the blood bank's doors, and disappear quickly inside.
"Now just what exactly are you doing here?"
Naruto ponders as he once more looks upon the map; since getting clear of the hospital, Naruto found a secluded bench overlooking Konoha Library. People passed him by without a second glance - most were either too cold too busy to give any care. He'd been sitting for close to an hour, waiting for Sakura to make a move, yet she still hadn't.
"Can always ask Tsubaki what she might be up to." Mizuki suggests casually, back turned to Naruto, sitting on the bench opposite him and stuffing his face. The sukiyaki bowl in his hands looked as dubious as the man himself, as he throws a piece of "beef" (don't ask where the meat actually came from), chewing noisily. The man acts so laid-back and unassuming, as if they weren't having a covert meeting outside one of the most secure buildings in the Village.
Naruto glances up, face scrunched up with irritation. "Why are you even here?"
"To help, obviously." Mizuki gestures at Naruto with his chopsticks. "And to enjoy the fine dining expereicen Konoha has to offer. Plus, it's my lunch-break."
Naruto rolled his eyes, ignoring the comment.
"But this ROOT officer..." Mizuki continued between bites, as he meticulously picks through his slop. "What'd he look like? Any noticeable features, quirks? Did he have an eyepatch, a peg leg, maybe a parrot on his shoulder?"
Naruto frowns, narrowing his eyes. "What the fuck is he supposed to be, a pirate?"
"Ooooh, a pirate would be fun," he quipped, grinning as he slurped another strip of meat into his mouth.
"No," Naruto said, shaking his head. "Nothing really stood out."
"Nothing?" Mizuki presses.
Well," Naruto started, trying to recall the ROOT officer's face beneath the cap. "I guess he kinda looks like you."
Mizuki smirks. "Ah, so, miserable?"
"No, like an asshole," Naruto fires, without missing a beat.
"Well, therein lies the rub," Mizuki goes with an exaggerated flair, flinging the bowl off to the side; it shatters off in the corner. "I'm an ass because I'm miserable. He's a jerk - from what I gather, because he thinks he's better than everyone else. I'm under no such illusions, my young padawan."
Naruto squints. "Pada-what?"
Mizuki waves him off dismissively. "Meh, you'll get it in about fourteen years. If we survive that long, that is."
Shaking his head, Naruto exhales sharply as he rolls the map back up. This banter was irritating him, and nothing so far changed from Sakura's, Sasuke's or even Asuma's perspective. The shinigami map revealed much, but also left a lot of things open to interpretation. Things which kept popping up and putting him more and more on his back foot.
That Sasuke was feeling ill, and kept it from him, felt almost like another indictment on Naruto which grated him. Comrade-Sensei Kakashi he could understand, but that Sakura knew so she could smuggle painkillers - painkillers Naruto himself smuggled over The Wall for the hospital as a whole - left Naruto miffed. Of course, Naruto hesitated bringing any of that all up - there were so many other things happening, airing out his sour grapes would just leave a bad taste in everyone's mouth. Yet, still, all this secrecy was killing him.
Bridge Builder warned there were few whom Naruto could trust, but he hated not being able to confide in the two most important people in the world to him.
The Uchiha prodigy, the junior-commissar, the aloof, yet affable sensei; Team 7 was a unique group among the ninja teams of Konoha. Whereas others had specific purposes - Team 10 for espionage and information, Team 13 for grunt work, Team 21 for logistic management; Team 7 was sort of a jack-of-all-trades. Their respective skillsets didn't so much as compliment the other's, but instead ebbed and flowed against. Sakura's heavy-handedness clashed with Naruto's flippant humor, which went all the way against Sasuke's detached stiffness; that, in turn, compounded Sakura's intense yearning to reach out and pull attention towards herself.
Sounded like a mess, but Comrade-Sensei Kakashi once said it's for these reasons they worked so well together. "You guys aren't a well-oiled machine. More like a well-oiled painting. The colors and brush strokes might seem awkward, at first. Yet, in the hands of a master, who knows...Maybe you all can be worth something someday."
On hearing this, Naruto called dibs on the color orange.
Sakura wanted pink.
Sasuke said he didn't particularly care for art.
"So...restricted sections - what's the plan?" Mizuki asks, elbowing him in the side of the ribs.
Naruto looks up at the towering structure of the Konoha Library before them. "Plan? What plan? There's no easy way to get in there. Damperners, chakra inhibitors, spider wire, bell mines, armed guards now posted at every door, and every interval, between the main entrance and all the fire exits...You guys kind fucked me."
Mizuki nods, smell of rancid meat and watered down broth sickeningly apparent on him when he leans close. "And don't forget the Hangkuk security system from Korea. Installed that late last year, too. 'State-of-the-Art', they say to us. That'll be real fun to get around."
Naruto's gaze lingers on the imposing compound, wondering aloud if ROOT really thinks the scroll could be hidden in there. "I've counted thirty or so black uniforms going in and out of this place since I sat here."
"Maybe," Mizuki shrugs. "If not that, at least the means to find it. Until Asuma caves, that is."
"He's not going to say a thing." Naruto says adamantly.
"Sure you wanna take that bet?" Mizuki says, picking between his teeth with a chopstick. "Long as ROOT's parked outside our door, little and less is gonna make it through. And it's bound to get worse. Notice how few dogs there are around here?"
Mizuki belches, tosses the stick behind him, and motions for Naruto to follow. Taking a small walk about the complex, they scope out the many storied Library looming over them. By far it's the longest Naruto's ever stayed close to this building, and he gulps. This wasn't any old stuffy place where books were kept. More like a medieval prison.
The massive structure harkened to the Village's origins, where after being driven from their homes, the displaced Iga ninja built the Library was first built to house their supplies and armament. Later their knowledge and history would be stored within the four concrete walls of the castle. With its arched awnings, stone door guardians, and three squat towers. All to defend against Nobunaga's encroaching armies.
"The two newer building off to the sides of the complex are where most of the guards will be posted," Mizuki tells Naruto as they walk down one cobblestoned path. The perimeter, he goes, runs through that axis. "It forms an easy line for them to keep watch. Most are still Konoha security, but ROOT's trying to phase them out. Doesn't matter, the Sendai attachments are clogging up everything."
Mizuki tips his cap to one of the aforementioned soldiers; she doesn't acknowledge him as she and her companion walk on by, hands held fast on their automatic rifles. Once they've past, Naruto sighs, running a hand through his unruly hair. "You guys really fucked me this time."
"Heh, I know," Mizuki chuckles leaning back with his hands behind his head. "You definitely got your work cut out for you on this one. But look on the bright side - at least you got me."
"Yeah, lucky me," Naruto groans.
If they were going to have any chance of getting fortunate here, Naruto knew they'd needed more than good plan. Preferably, maybe an omamori shoved up his butt, one of those beckoning cat figurines for good luck, and maybe that silver cross thingy Naruto swiped off a Western tourist one day in Tokyo. Unfortunately, most charms and "religious" symbolism were banned in the North. So the only thing he could work with was perhaps taping a picture of Sanzo Nosaka to his face, and walking through the front door like he owned the place.
What was the worst thing that could happen?
"Beating, whipping, some time with a blowtorch maybe; a water torture session mixed in. Definitely an ass slapping, though. So bad you won't be able to sit for weeks." Mizuki informs; Naruto couldn't imagine Sakura coming to his room and assisting with that.
Unfortunately, seemed their best option would have to be relying on the simplest formula in the book: a shift change.
Mizuki pulled strings and got himself pegged for a few of night watches in the Library. When he's on, he says, he'll make a case mapping out all the checkpoints inside: wires, binding traps, alarms, which route the guards will take, etc. Once doing so, he'll add the information to the shinigami map. "I'll get to you once my first shift happens, but until then, let's you and I make these meetings scarce. Less we see each other the better. Sure, you wouldn't mind that."
No, Naruto wouldn't.
But, on his end, he will be tasked scoping out the Library's perimeter. Aurrounded in the technical "financial district" of Konoha - the pay dispensary building being across the way on the northern side, east and west was where a few of the Village's "cave-scrapers" - one a converted logistics depot from an old Tokugawa era encampment, and the other three-story "insurance company" meant to divvy up resources for communal projects - flanked it.
A couple night here and there would give Naruto a good vantage point to assess the best point of entry.
"Best bet, obviously, is wait for public hours to close." Mizuki explains, nodding over to the small park rounding the Library's southern side. Wasn't overly extravagant - space dictated how much Konoha could afford for aesthetics, but two main walkways through a small wooded area, a heated koi pond, and three bridges, afforded good cover for a hasty retreat. "Senju Memorial is directly behind the Library's back entrance. Once you finish up inside, come out through here, use the cover to get out fast as needs be."
"Sounds too predictable," Naruto says.
"Well, that's why Bridge Builder likes you." Mizuki tips his cap off to him, turns, and begins to walk off towards the gatehouse. "Make it unpredictable."
Unpredictable...
"Fucking, right." Naruto huffs, sprawled out as he was on his bed.
The headphones sat snug atop his head, as the soulful strains of this bluesy tune filled his head, giving him some much needed reprieve. He needed it right now. More than ever, actually. To get lost, feel at ease; chill while the world spun to the motions, and he simply being a passenger riding along to the rhythm. Fingers drum idly against his thigh as he stares at the ceiling, mind racing in a hundred directions.
He takes in a breath, tries to calm himself, think clearly to the beat of the slow, languishing notes played on the piano.
Yes, unpredictability was his thing, sure.
But when the stakes were this high, relying on plain luck was, honestly, stupid. He knew that - in all of his experiences, the so-called "unpredictable" part of his nature only happened because he was unlucky. I mean, for sure, he'd never admit that aloud; why give naysayers more ammunition to pelt him with. Nor did he like to shatter everyone's idea of what he was, either. The brave, indefatigable, bowl of energy; who ever charged head first into any problem.
That's what brought him to the dance, and so far he'd gotten good at it. But as he lay on his bed, thinking of all the shit rolling downhill, being unpredictable while the Village was in total lockdown felt far heavier risk than Naruto's skinny behind was willing to take. Fighting off biker goons was one thing, but squaring up against an entire infantry battalion, along with State secret services?
Not even Asuma was able to make a move.
Naruto closes his eyes, and clutches tightly the little message the Third Hoksgr left for him to his chest.
What the hell are you trying to tell me now? Naruto thinks, runnung the tiny scroll's message over and over through his head.
"Ladybug, Ladybug
Bring me some luck
Fly, faraway home…"
"…What the fuck?" Naruto muttered, tugging the headphones down around his neck.
If smuggling stolen secrets out of his hometown wasn't enough pressure, now he needed to decode a shitty haiku while dodging ROOT agents and trying to infiltrate one if the most secured buildings in Konoha at the moment. Oh, and let's not forget: those stolen secrets? They pertained to him. And his friends. All being vetted for some top-secret government project put on hold after the capitalists thought it more prudent to have a nuclear bomb wipe Hiroshima from the map.
His fists clenched around the edge of his blanket, and he fights back the bile in his throat; he should never have caved and gotten a sukiyaki bowl after meeting Mizuki.
Add that to the list of bullshit he needed to contend with.
"Argh! Son of a bitch…"
Naruto sat up and rubbed his face, letting the frustration seep out in a long exhale. Vague nonsense, all of it! What the shit did Asuma expect he do with this, while he he supposed to do with this vague nonsense? He tossed the scroll under his bed in frustration, hearing it clatter against the little green lockbox tucked beneath.
Kushina's box.
All the stuff his mom supposedly left behind for him. At least, that's what Asuma said. Naruto didn't know what to believe anymore. There were too many layers of lies, too many half-truths swirling around him. Who knows anymore - with so much confusion going round, Naruto didn't know if he'd know the truth even if he heard it.
Would it even be a relief for him if he did manage to uncover the truth, would it bring him any peace?
He finagles with the scratchy material of his hakama - the collars of these old, winter jackets were of a stiffer material than most. Come right out of the 1950's winter campaigns where a lot of the old comrade ninja had supported the Chinese invasion of Korea. The State made no qualms of where some of these discarded gear came from; the one Naruto wore was a size too big, and most likely had a dead man inside it once. Judging by the bullet holes along the sides which he never bothered to sew up. Didn't matter because most ops now weren't conducted in the winter, and most of the time Konoha shinobi rarely frequented this gear anyway.
"The midnight hour has found me lonely
So unhappy as I can be
You left me, yes you left me without a love"
"Oh, for crying out loud!" Annoyed, Naruto goes to the record player and turns it off; if he wasn't wanting to hear it from himself, he didn't need it from some blind jazz musician, either.
Throwing himself once more down on his bed, he shuts his eyes and tries to think. Not a fun thing for him; not easy. As in his mind he sees the guard posts, the black booted ROOT commissars, even a few impressionable genin and chunin in the mix. A few Konoha citizens were awarded dispensations for rationing in lieu of the emergency services. A nice enough carrot to hide the stick.
It'd only make this a helluva lot harder for tonight.
Naruto peeks out at the clock on his nightstand.
Quarter to midnight.
He closes his eyes and drew in a deep, steadying breath. Slowly, his room begins to fall away, focusing instead on the connection he'd made with his shadow clone for the last thirty minutes.
Cold night air prickles against his face, a brisk wind cutting his concentration like a blade. He now smells the faint, sharp tang of tobacco wafting from below. Sitting atop an arched roof, making sure to cling to the shadows, the clone watches the armed infantry below. He's memorized every step of their patterned patrol: forty yards up, forty yards back. Two guards pace the perimeter, with another two stationed by the entrance.
Naruto makes sure to keep the head covering steady on his head; last thing he wants is for his bright blonde locks to give him away. The sheer black of his shinobi shozoku field suit is tight against his skin and itches. Been a while since he wore this getup, and it makes him feels goofy. The black hakama, grass-leaf tabi, the leg wraps - these traditional outfits were now being phased out. For the rigors of a modern day ninja, most were outfitted with a typical flak jacket, combat sandals, and turtleneck. Headbands were no longer a thing anymore, either; they tended to catch the light, and normally became loose in a fight.
Comrade-Proctor Iruka talked regularly how headbands were one of the leading cause of fatalities for shinobi during the war. At the Raid of Cabanatuan, where over 500 Japanese POW's were held captive, what ended in a disastrous massacre was all because the Konoha ninja tasked with the mission failed to take into account the light of a full moon.
Since, the headbands were worn for strickly for ceremonial purposes. Naruto still got a kick out of his, though; tucking his away in a drawer.
Naruto crouches low over the rooftop, his breath visible in the icy air. The chill gnaws at his fingers, his toes, and he curses for not swiping a pair of gloves before sneaking out. He flexed his fingers and balled them into fists, willing the blood to circulate. Staying sharp was a ballbreaking challenge when every nerve in your body begged for warmth.
From his vantage point, Naruto scans the sprawling complex of the Konoha Library. By day it was an intimidating piece of work, but at night, under the pale glow of floodlights and flickering torches, it resembled a military encampment. Patrol units moved like clockwork—predictable, but not sloppy. Officers were barking orders, tugging along the few lucky German Shepherds still deemed fit to do their jobs.
Another sickening burp from his body back at the dorm almost makes him hurl at the thought.
His eyes settled on the Sendai infantry stationed at the front entrance. Clad in thick, Type-59 winter jackets lined with fur. They moved and seemed more like trolls lumbering under torchlight than soldiers. The padding bulked them up, giving Naruto a moment of cautious relief. Big and slow meant easier to evade—at least, in theory. But they weren't the only ones. Younger, fleet-footed genin darted about, their breathless energy almost infectious. Naruto guessed they were barely thirteen or fourteen, likely thrilled at the excuse to stay out past curfew.
He frowned. Their excitement wasn't surprising—families in these lean times would jump at any extra rations or rewards. And if loyalty to ROOT meant more food on the table, few were willing to question it.
Vaulting down to a lower rooftop. His feet hit the tiles with a muffled thud, and he crouched, pressing himself low to stay out of sight. A quick scan of the area revealed no immediate threats, and he sprang lightly onto a taut telephone wire.
"Oh, shit," he hissed, arms flailing as the wire wobbled precariously under his weight. For a moment, he teeters, the abyss below threatening to swallow him whole. He sucks in a steadying breath. "Center. Center. Get the center."
He forced his body to stillness, finding his balance by slowly spreading his arms wide. The scout in the nearby tower doesn't notice just as Naruto drops into the shadows, the faint rustle of his baggy hakama masked by the wind's howl.
"Calmly, calmly," he bites down on his bottom lip, darting from shadow to shadow. Edging closer to the ROOT commissar and his small entourage of chunin. Their polished uniforms gleamed under the lights, a stark contrast to the scrappy genin they oversaw.
"To me! To me, now! Come!" the commissar barked, his voice cutting through the night like a whip.
Four boys and three girls snapped into formation, postures rigid as boards while they line up before him. Naruto recognized a few —particularly one kid whom he'd pranked during a field training mission once. Kid was a real jerk; had a nasty habit of tying firecrackers to cats' tails. So one night, Naruto pissed in a bowl and put his hand in it, hoping it'd get him to wet himself. Sasuke kept telling him that's not how that worked, but what did he know.
Course, it didn't.
Still, pretty funny seeing him freak out the next morning with his hand covered in urine.
And judging by his pockmarked, beady little face, trying its best to look all tough, Naruto knew he deserved it yet again.
"The commissar paced in front of them, his posh uniform and swagger giving off a predator's air. "Congratulations are in order," he began, his voice oily with satisfaction. "Tonight, you have proven something to me: loyalty to the collective is stronger than your slavish devotion to ego. This is what the State expects. This is what The Noble One wants. This I like!"
"Hai, Comrade-Commissar!" the recruits shouted in unison, voices echoing in perfect sync.
Naruto rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he creeps along.
Did he blame them?
No.
How could he?
Everyone made their way, however they could.
This path was simply one of the many roads their decisions could take. And as Iruka clumsily stumbled during one night of buzzed clairvoyance: They all deserved to find who they wanted to be on their own...
As the ROOT officer bounced around on his feet like a chicken, clucking and postulating about duty, honor, respect, and tradition.
Before moving on, Naruto makes the count: fifteen in total along this area. Plus, another machine gun emplaced nearby. Clearly, this section was quartered off to be some kind of processing area for new recruits - genin and chunin alike. The loudest, most eager ones were pulled further into the camp, probably given the same shpeel this Comarade-Commissar was throwing up all over their shoes. All while being treated to a warm meal in the mess tent bustling with activity. The smell of food wafted towards him: teriyaki, miso soup, and the rich aroma fish boiling in broth.
The familiar smell hits his gurgling stomach immediately, and he curses.
"Ramen," he whispers bitterly. The bastards were serving them all ramen.
Granted, it would probably be nothing compared to the great, succulent taste normally partaken in at Ichiraku; the delicious, salted broth with all kinds of succulent tastes, the meats which were actually meats, the swimming noodles soft, but not too soft. Almost akin to what that Italians would call "al dente"; hard enough to make the pasta sit nice and heavy in your belly. What Naruto would do for a bowl of Teuchi's shoyu ramen with the soy sauce right about now, or of his specially made tantanmen.
Probably, piss in all these people's bowls and plop their hands in it.
If he could; the western side of the Library looked abuzz with activity. Naruto makes a note of this as he circles around the flank, where the eastern bit of the complex seemed mellower. Here, one could make out the main thoroughfare winding directly to Konoha's market square and Hokage Tower. In the daytime, most civilians would come by this path; Naruto figured it would be easy to blend in with the crowd here.
Maybe.
His blonde hair would be a problem.
Nothing a hat might fix, but not many in Konoha were privy for caps; in fact, that addition might make him stand-out more than if he went without.
Naruto stops, considers, tracking the sparse patrols passing on by. Only about one or two groups, four soldiers in total, with only a few genin and chunin nipping at their heels. Definitely, the soft side of the underbelly. Naruto is hesitant to mark it, knowing full well simplicity here can lead to carelessness; ROOT wouldn't be so bold as to leave an opening. Lest, it was a trap.
Naruto needed had to be sure.
The next night, same routine as before, Naruto committed to the recon. After visiting Matsuri in the hospital, chatting with Iruka for a quick bite to eat, he makes his way back to the dorms before curfew hours. Same two Sendai guards the first time he'd returned from the hospital, same piss-poor reception as then, too; Naruto heads to his room, puts on some tunes, and focuses on the connection with his clone.
It was another cold, dark midnight, begetting a stolid silence which felt calm, dependable to Naruto. Again, he wears the typical hakama; all-black always - dark blue robes were best suited for outside, where the night sky was lit by the moon. Here, in the confines of the Konoha cavern, Naruto needn't worry on that. Circling about the Library complex, making note of the three towers and the rifleman posted, he counts the squads of patrols.
ROOT thrived on predictability, using it as a weapon. Their guards mirrored the same paths as before, their commissar repeated the same clipped instructions, and even the savory aroma wafting from their mess tent was unchanged. But despite the appearance of monotony, something was off.
The chunin guards stationed this time were strangers to him, their faces unfamiliar and their demeanor unsettlingly rigid. Their movements screamed discipline and fear—fear honed by the unforgiving structure of the State. This wasn't the unrefined chaos of street gangs or the ostentatious overkill of foreign military tactics. It was calculated, mechanical, and intentional.
Yet, Naruto had learned to spot the cracks in any armor. The east remained barren, too barren. Here lacked the intensity ROOT's reputation demanded. Almost like they wanted intruders to focus here, believing in the illusion of security.
The thought gnawed at him.
ROOT wouldn't be careless.
Not in Konoha, not under the noses of veteran shinobi, and certainly not with something as sensitive as the library's hidden archives.
Naruto felt his breath puff into the frosty air and ducked lower, his sharp eyes scanning the scene. He recognized Asuma Sarutobi, the commanding figure among the group entering the library. His aura of authority was unshaken even by the cold night, and the men following him—Izumo, Kotetsu, Aoba, Raido, and Genma—moved with the ease of seasoned operatives. A contingent of Sendai infantry marched in lockstep around them, their polished discipline a stark contrast to the ninja's fluidity.
Naruto's focus narrowed on the two figures flanking Asuma: a scruffy man with wild black hair, clad in the almost clichéd shinobi garb, and the ROOT officer Naruto had spotted with Sakura the day before. A chill runs through him, this time not from the cold. His pulse quickens, and he strains to hear their muted voices as they disappeared into the library.
Shit, shit, SHIT!
Panic bubbles in his chest.
The scroll—was it too late? Had Asuma already decided to reveal its location? Naruto gritted his teeth, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios. Failure looms like a specter, threatening to crush him before he'd even made his move.
Or cleave his head off his shoulders.
The sharp whistle of a blade cut through his thoughts. He felt the air shift, instinct driving him to move. A silver flash glinted in the moonlight as the attack came—a katana, its edge aiming to bisect him from jugular to navel. Twisting away at the last second, Naruto, eyes wide, turns to meet his assailant. This figure wears no emblem, no distinguishing marks, only the cold precision of a killer.
And a killer he was.
A dispassionate vacancy from the white porcelain mask stares back at him. The light of a wain moon reflects off its surface. A black uniform, black cap, and a black juken blade gleam out from the darkness. Naruto knows he is unprepared here to face his assailant. A brave man would stay and fight, a smart man would leave; but he - beyond many others far better equipped at navigating this precarious position - had a flair for being far more eccentric.
Through pressed lips and dark cloth covering his mouth, Naruto curses. For not being smarter, for not paying more attention in Advanced Strategy and Comraderie 101, and for being the Village's number one, unpredictable pain in the ass. Because on the back of his belt, Naruto reaches for his kunai. He runs off. Under his heavy footfalls he hears the crack of old tiles crunch underneath, and the fast steps his attacker behind.
Naruto's breath comes in sharp, foggy bursts as he darts across the rooftops of Konoha's crumbling infrastructure. "New" here meant a fresh coat of paint and not much else; the financial buildings about the Library complex were relics built over with additions and refurbishments. But if Naruto's memory served correctly, a long-time ago field trip led by Comrade-Proctor Iruka might be his only chance at escape—if he could get to cover first.
Behind, the masked assailant moves with terrifying precision, each step pressing against Naruto's fleeting advantage. He barely sidesteps an attack aimed for his ribs, the faint whistle of the juken carving through the night air. He rolls into a somersault, bringing his kunai up just in time to meet a devastating downward burst between them as steel clashes against steel. The force rattles Naruto's arm, sending a sharp tingle into his shoulder. Before he could recover, the masked figure delivered a powerful kick sending him skidding backward - he barely catches his balance as he's pushed to the roof's edge.
Another flurry of strikes come without pause, blades flashing like streaks of lightning in the night. Naruto ducks and weaves, his body twisting in desperate maneuvers. The attacker's blows force him into a defensive rhythm, instinctively dropping him into a shotokan stance. Parrying, blocking, his movements became sharper, more calculated. Giving him a fleeting opening when he knocks the enemy's blade aside.
Goddammit…" he hisses.
Launching his kunai in a desperate bid for an advantage, it struck. But the weapon glances off the enemy's breastplate, leaving a jagged scratch on its harness. Retaliating immediately, the masked figure drives a fist into Naruto's stomach with brutal efficiency.
Naruto's breath escapes as he's lifted from the force of the punch. Time slows, as he feels the weightlessness of the free fall. The hard concrete below rushes to promise him a grim end. His thoughts spiral, but instinct kicked in. He reaches for the grapple claw strapped to his waist.
He tosses it toward a passing ledge, the steel line catching with a reassuring clink. The sudden pull yanks him into a wild arc, body swinging like a pendulum toward the building. The momentum carries him through the glass, shards exploding around, as he crashes into the third story.
Naruto hits the floor hard.
Rolling to absorb the impact, his muscles scream in protest. Shards of glass glittered about him like frozen stars, and for a moment, the only sound was his own labored breathing. But he knew better than to rest.
Struggling to his feet, Naruto coughs and groans as the impact shakes his bones. The room around him was dimly lit and forgotten—wooden desks, crumbling plaster walls, and filing cabinets standing like ancient sentinels. He pushed himself up, wiping blood from a shallow cut on his cheek, and glanced around. Silence hung in the air, and Naruto allowed himself a brief gasp of relief.
But the respite didn't last.
Outside, sharp commands broke the stillness. Naruto's ears caught the heavy, metallic clatter of a weapon being primed. His heart sank. He scrambled to the window and peeked out, just in time to see the glint of the Type 99 machine gun as it locked onto his position. Guardsmen in dark uniforms moved with precision, rifles snapping into place as they aimed upward.
Shit!" Naruto hissed, diving away from the window.
The night exploded with the sound of gunfire. Lightning-like flashes illuminated the darkness as bullets tore into the building. The walls rattled and splintered under the barrage, shards of wood and chunks of plaster flying in every direction. Desks were shredded, filing cabinets punched through like paper, and glass shards rained down as the storm of bullets raked across the room.
Naruto scampered across the floor, ducking low as debris erupted around him. A bullet tore through a wooden beam inches from his head, sending splinters cascading into his hair. The noise was deafening, drowning out his own thoughts of escape. A clean kill wasn't in the cards for him tonight.
There can be no doubt - none at all, he thinks.
He spots a hallway at the far end of the room and makes a break for it, weaving between overturned furniture and collapsed debris. Another burst of fire rips through the space, punching holes in the floor behind. Naruto dove over a broken desk, body rolling as more bullets chewed through its remains. He clenched his teeth, trying to ignore the burning ache in his muscles and the adrenaline screaming in his veins.
The narrow opening of the hallway promises some cover. With a final push, Naruto lunges toward it, breath ragged as he hit the ground and scrambled behind a section of wall. The gunfire continues, a relentless storm pounding the room he'd just left. Dust filled the air, choking and thick, as the building groans under the onslaught.
Naruto pressed his back against the wall, panting, mind racing; he has only seconds before they regrouped and sent in the search party.
"Hold!" He hears from below.
Suddenly, the firing stops, and the command to reload is shouted. From inside the office space was just in comes a loud thud; his attacker zips through the shattered opening. He waves down below and gives a signal to the commissar. With a stiff flick if his arm, the man orders the chunin forward for support.
"Oh crap!" Naruto ducks, when he hears *Pop* *Pop* *Pop* of a sidearm cry out; the 8x22mm Nambu wasn't an accurate cartridge, but in the hands of this bastard Naruto felt lucky.
A round ricochets right by his head, and another bounces off the wall near him. Naruto pushes down the hallway, following the bronze placards telling him of the history of the Inogawa Foundry building. His pulse pounds in his ears, his sandals slapping against the cold, tiled floor. Basement, he keeps repeating to himself. Get downstairs. GET DOWNSTAIRS!
Behind, the masked figure advances; the Nambu pistol barks out rounds which ricochet off the walls, sending sparks flying. The sharp tang of gunpowder fills the air, mingling with the stale scent of paper and machine oil. Naruto feels the heat of a bullet zip past his shoulder, close enough to singe his robes.
Desperation fuels his movements. He skids to a stop near one of the placards, and with a grunt, he jams his kunai beneath it. The heavy bronze plaque comes loose with a screech of metal, and Naruto hoists it like a makeshift shield as another shot rings out.
Ahead, the spiral stairwell sprawls before him. It leads down to the main lobby, where Naruto can already hear the scuffle of excited, panicky feet below; chunin and armed guards flood on in, getting in to position to cut off his exit out the front door. However, that's not where Naruto was headed. With the plaque clutched tightly in one hand, he leaps onto the bannister. The world tilts as he spirals downward, while above the masked assailant leans over the railing, firing off another shot which narrowly misses.
"There he is!" One chunin shouts out.
"Get'em! He's overe here!" Goes another.
Landing hard at the bottom of the stairs, plaque clanging against the floor, Naruto reaches back into the pouch and throws the contents onto the floor. Little marbles stream across, and after a moment give off a loud hiss. Acrid smoke covers the entirety of the lobby, blinding everything in a choking veil. A few wayward shots ping out, but Naruto expertly avoids them all .Zigzagging off towards the back wall, he spies the familiar bust of Sanzo Nosaka smiling neath a plaque that could make any schoolboy groan.
In the year 1697, it reads - like they all do. Like they have to, as if it's easier to make you care, or have you feel any kind of connection to the thing that happened in the year of whenever, because of so-and-so did a whodunnit. Whether it be Colonel Mustard in the kitchen withe a candlestick, or a random happenstance occurrence that's only important because someone famous happened to sneeze, Naruto recalls a bit from what Comrade-Proctor Iruka told them that day.
He didn't want to be there.
None of his classmates did.
But, Naruto remembered. That in the year 1697, during the height of the Dog Shogun's rule, special orders regarding Konoha's status were received. Tokugawa Tsunayoshi, fifth shogun of the Tokugawa, initiated a claim regarding the lands surrounding Fuji and its forests. At this point, Tokyo and Kyoto had been jockeying for influence among the Hidden Leaf's clans for some time, and were backing differing factions within the Iga ranks.
The Shinobigashira - the title of "Chief Ninja" predating the role of Hokage - was held by the noble Sarutobi Hideyoshi, third head of the Sarutobi clan. A gallant leader, trusted by all and cherished the favor of Higashiyama-tenno, was held in a deadlock of his position by the rivaling Koga and Isa sub-sects of either's respective families. The Senju, lead by Koga Gennosuke, and the Uchiha by Uchiha Izuna, backed by Tsunayaoshi, were threatening violence against the other. Which threatened to spill into the neighboring countryside. Here is the site by which Hideyoshi found the large cache of powder and munition stored beneath the Foundry by Uchiha sergeants, who had used this depot previously as a jail and gaoler's office prior to the completion of Konoha's Police Department.
Warning to Public: Barrels of black powder on display. Do not touch.
Sasuke told them he had a direct line to Izuna Uchiha through his mother; he showed them his family tree one day while they were at his mansion. It hung in a trophy room of all the rest of the knickknacks his forebears compiled over the years. Sakura was enamored - she couldn't take her eyes off all the old samurai sets and naginata wielded by the Uchiha women of the past. Naruto, on the other hand, couldn't stop yawning. Being surrounded by museum pieces didn't strike him as all that interesting. Sasuke might've taken pride in what these artifacts told him about himself and where he came from, but Naruto?
Naruto enjoyed things with a little more kick.
A lunging chunin tries to grab at him as he spins away, somersaulting over her, and avoiding a bayonet stab from one of Sendai's finest. The masked hunter pursues, unbothered by the smoke, the two small slits of his lifeless mask, peering out directly towards Naruto as he makes his way towards the powder magazine. Inogawa Foundry's first floor had an open concept - clerk's desks were spread into ten neat rows either side of a walkway leading from the entrance. In the center of the square, an open aired space showing the Foundry's basement allowed for easy access of the public to see the original foundations.
Three Dutch and Portuguese cannons sat there. Along with rudimentary muskets, three-pronged yard spears, and twenty barrels of black powder placed neatly off to the side. Two-hundred and thirty six years may be a long while for anything to go bad, but the Foundry's dry environment and this flint ring begged to differ.
"Stop him! Get him out of there!" The commissar yells out.
The scent of sulfur and aged wood fills his nostrils as he lands hard on the packed dirt floor, rolling to absorb the impact. The dim light above barely illuminates the space, while rows of barrels and crates casting long shadow among the tacky mannequins. Izuna Uchiha is off to one side directing his subordinates; they're amassing the kegs in a neat line, the Uchiha symbol of the fan wafting the flames apparent on their breasts. While the golden Tokugawa triple hollyhock banner overlooks them.
It's said that it's the same banner which was found along with the powder here almost two centuries ago.
Naruto feels somewhat guilty; it doesn't feel right blowing a piece of the Village's history like this into smithereens. Painting over the Hokage Mount was one thing, yet igniting an explosive tag among a bunch of volatile powder, considering what Konoha just went through? The ramifications here would only end up being worse, and most like make it all harder for him forward. Yet, like the unfortunate roll of a die, he'd no choice but to face the consequences of fate.
For a while Naruto wondered if his unpredictable nature only occurred because he was ever the ultimate optimist in the face of such bad turn of events. He panics, sure; gets miffed, definitely; can become absolutely mind-boggled how every "tough-go" happening falls to him. But he never falters.
He doesn't hesitate as the shouts grow louder above. As the masked figure leaps forward over the guardrail, blackened juken primed to strike, a bright, crackling, spinning orb glows hotly in his hand. Chakra spits out in tendrils of light, causing Naruto to hesitate; he's never seen a jutsu like this before. He rises to his feet, though. Adamant, determined, challenging the figures peering down at him. All their weapons are trained on him as he holds their gaze, expression defiant, fingers tightening on the tag.
"Come on, then," he mutters, voice low but steady.
He wonders if this is what Izuna felt as he was cornered by Hideyoshi's men, detained, tortured and later strung up like some fatted piece of beef. Sasuke would be sure to tell him what it must've been - he ever did like regaling people of his family's tumultuous history; he was the only one that day on the field trip who seemed somewhat interested in what transpired here. Naruto wonders what he'll feel like once this all goes up in flames.
The click of his flint rings singes his fingers, as the spark ignites the explosive tag in his right hand. Beneath the mask Naruto is smiling, as the commissar's face turns ghostly white above. Naruto can't hear what he orders everyone, the only sound swirling in his head being his attacker's jutsu. It is a mere two yards away from his face. It had the sound of a jet propulsion engine and a flock of birds all at once. The orb fizzles with unbridled energy, spinning as it floats in the small of his palm, before tossing it like a shuriken.
The last thing Naruto sees are blades of light racing towards him; the air is seemingly sucked from his lungs, his skins feels chilled, and an apparent scent of ozone hits him. This kill shot is meant to do the job the figure's sword couldn't - bifurcate him in two, and save Konoha's executioner the trouble. Comrade Morino will be disappointed to hear this night's interloper had escaped his clutches.
For they'll find nothing tonight but a pile of ash.
Once again a familiar feeling of burning hits him as the explosive tag ignites. A sudden flash and a lick of fires singes his robes, his skin, burns his hair. Naruto's body is jolted awake, his breath catching as though he'd just been yanked from the depths of the ocean. His heart pounds wildly in his chest, and his muscles felt as if they were on fire. Staring at the ceiling of his small dorm room, his head swirls with fragmented images and questions. Breathing is haggard, strained, but he's able to manage the sensation of tingling away. Naruto reminds himself the pain wasn't real. That he was okay and in one piece. For now. And whatever he learned tonight, Mizuki and he were going to need a chat.
The masked assailant flashed in his mind first—a shinobi of precision and cunning, moving with expert skill, wielding a technique Naruto never encountered before. His brow furrowed as he tried to recall the jutsu; after facing Aburame Shino he wasn't surprised ROOT had another "uncanny" individual at their disposal. But the jutsu's unfamiliar energy crackles in the edges of his memory like an itch he couldn't reach. Then came the ROOT officer, a recurring specter specter glimpsed beside Sakura at the hospital. Now seen alongside Asuma, trailing—or was it leading?—the Third Hokage into the Library, armed guards surrounding them as though preparing for something.
Naruto sits up, ignoring the searing pain shooting through his torso, forcing him back onto the bed. Nerves still burned from the explosion which decimated his clone, his real body still feeling this echo. He clenched his fists against the ache, his mind a storm of confusion.
Sakura...
He hadn't seen much of her since the attack. Her schedule had grown relentless, overworked as she cared for tge patients at Tree Leaf. When they spoke, it was always short and polite, her exhaustion palpable. What answers he could get from her would only be at her own volition. A dubious thing, considering her temperament, and the the overall penchant for keeping secrets now.
But it wasn't only Sakura, though—everyone in the village seemed distant. Since the bombing, his friends were preoccupied, cautious; afraid to connect with each other while shadows loomed over Konoha, their lives under the watchful gaze of unseen eyes.
Naruto turns his head to the Shinigami map spread beside his bed. The intricate inkwork of the map shimmers faintly, revealing a detailed layout of the Library complex. He pulls out the kunai his clone had carried, tip stained with a faint smear of blood.
The blood. The masked assailant.
His strike had barely managed to penetrate the shinobi's armor, but here it was—a small trace of evidence, and maybe, just maybe, a clue. How such objects carried over from his clones, he didn't understand the mechanics. Sakura, or even Iruka might have a better grasp of it. Something about particles and chakra and—what was it?
"Tachyons, actually," Naruto murmured aloud, the word slipping from his lips before he even realized it.
It makes him freeze.
Tachyons? Where on earth had that come from?
It wasn't a word he should know, let alone use in a sentence. It felt foreign and yet strangely familiar, like a fragment from a half-remembered dream. The clarity of it flickered in his mind, vanishing as quickly as it appears. He shakes his head, dismissing the thought: it didn't matter right now. What mattered was sealing the blood onto the map. Carefully, he presses the edge of the kunai to the seal, watching as the blood reacted with the chakra-infused paper. The ink shimmers, twists, and then resolves into a single name—a name that made Naruto's stomach drop and his vision swim with stars.
He stares at it, disbelief tightening in his throat. This couldn't be right.
But there it was.
The name burned into the map, an answer that only gave rise to more questions, and questions which only made him more reluctant to find the truth.
Naruto does not sleep that night - a small reprieve as it spares another night fending off the restless nightmare. He didn't feel like going through it again, confronting the amber eyed man with the warm, auburn locks; tracking him through the destroyed remnants of a fractured lab; a dingy hellscape which doesn't feel familiar to him, yet does. Trying to uncover a "truth" unknown to him, something it feels like he's been trying to avoid, yet would bring clarity to an already fucked situation.
Clarity, while everything else was shrouded in confusion.