CHAPTER 30
Four days later
The deserts of Wind Country were often misunderstood.
They were often seen as a desolate place of sand and heat, where the air was strangled and thin, the wind was harsh and scalding, and the ground was just as unforgiving, filled with many natural traps laying in wait to consume its latest victim. Scorpions, snakes, cactus, sinkholes and pitfalls. It was an arid world, endless and golden, often so hot that it could melt the soles of shoes during the day, and perilously cold that it could freeze the soul at night.
Beneath that, for those that looked hard enough, the desert was serene. The duality of life and death, hanging in the balance in a world that couldn't care less for its inhabitants, letting its will overcome anyone that resisted. Like a typhoon or a hurricane, the desert was neutral and lifeless, taking what it wanted when it deserved to and leaving the remnants of life behind not as an act of mercy, but simply because it didn't reach them in time.
The desert ate what it wanted when it was time to eat, not when it was hungry.
There was a beauty to it; the undulating sands that piled high and low into sand dunes, flatlands that were blindingly hot that could go on for many miles, and many abandoned settlements that were left to dry and decay in the unforgiving atmosphere. Centuries of history lay buried beneath the sands or locked away in forgotten caves, coves, and caverns that had, once upon a time, been teeming with life.
Morty enjoyed being in the desert.
He enjoyed fresh air, wherever that was, but the calmness and neutrality of the desert fascinated the boy. His existence proved the duality of the desert, and of nature itself; sunlight of any intensity burned his fragile skin, and even moonlight did terrible, irreversible things to his body. The sun, and moon, did so not because they hated the boy, but rather because they coincidentally existed over the same lifetime as the boy.
He was presently sitting under a wide beach umbrella, which cast an abnormally dense shade over the boy, who perched with his legs close to his body on a blanket laid on the sand. Though he was safe from the rays of the sun, keeping his toes and elbows close, the pale boy didn't let his comfort fall into complacency; the sun would sooner kill him than stop shining, so he best not let his guard down. He wore a pair of black shorts and dark tights that reached his ankles, and black socks, as well as a long-sleeved black turtleneck and gloves. His hair and eyebrows were dyed black, but his eyelashes, nearly translucent, were hidden behind a pair of circular glasses, which also obscured the boy's pale stare.
He was reading a small, black book. Poems written by someone long dead. On his right side was a short stack of four books; one was a nonfiction story about a sailor for many years that circumvented the continent, starting from Wave Country and ending in Kiri. Another book was also nonfiction, though it detailed the story of a shinobi who lost faith in his mistress, leading a revolt against her but ending in his inevitable disgrace, torture and death. The third book on the stack was a fiction about a sailor who discovered a world beneath the waters. The fourth book at the top was nonfiction, a real-life recounting from a historian about the First Mizukage, his mastery of all Seven Swords of the Mist, and the battles he fought.
Morty had finished reading and rereading those stories.
He had an extensive library of books in his room at the CORE headquarters, and even more books in his workshop in Suna, most of which he had read so many times that he could confidently recite the stories loaded inside each book from cover to cover. It didn't matter if it was a textbook from a bygone era, a nonsensical write-up from a loony professor, or a fantasy story about goblins and ghouls, Morty loved reading them all.
Morty loved reading.
He turned the page of his poem book, murmuring as his eyes traced each word from the book. He anticipated each word before his eyes caught onto the letters, whispering faintly and solemnly the poem about a dying man hoping in vain that his estranged wife would return to him in his final hours.
The heat in the wind hardly caught his words, blowing from the east and making the boy pause.
He looked up to the sky, just as a distant bird screeched.
The boy's impassive expression turned up a little. He brought a bookmark from inside his sleeve and slipped it into the small book in his hand, snapping it shut and gently setting it down on his left.
The bird shrieked again, more insistently. Somewhere outside Morty's umbrella, a pile of sand steadily rose, arching upwards at a deliberate pace to reveal the boy's primary puppet, Asher. For when once there was no sign of disturbance on the dune, the boy's menacing puppet glowered darkly at the sky, breaking the serenity of the desert. Sand trickled from the wide-brimmed hat and his overcoat. His neck clicked twice as he faced the bird. His lips were twisted into a permanent scowl, sewn shut by a bright red thread.
Asher held out his arm and the bird collided with it, digging its blade-like talons into the coat of the puppet. The bird, if you could still call it that, was, in reality, a marvel of a mechanism; it was one-third the size of Asher, with black glass beads embedded in its eyes and a stern, wooden face for when it had once been flesh. Its body was a mixture of wood and feathers, purposely made light and flexible, with curved talons securely fastened to Asher's arms. Its chest rumbled, exhaling steam from its nose and twitching its head to the left, facing Morty.
The bird tucked its wings close to its body.
Its chest vibrated again, this time something gradually slithered from its stomach, rising through its throat and crawling from its beak. The bird pitched its head forward and Asher deftly caught the sealing scroll that tumbled from the large creature's beak.
"Excellent," Morty mumbled, holding out his hand. Asher flung the bird away, and the bird took off into the sky. It was one of Morty's latest works, a puppet that functioned independently of the master. The core of the puppet contained a special spool of chakra thread embedded with specific instructions. It was, however, only able to perform one function, which in this case was to serve as his messenger.
The boy collected the message from Asher, just as the bird came down to the earth, less gracefully than before and landing with a jarring crunch. The wings of the bird were closed to prevent further damage, but the boy could see that one of the legs of the bird was twisted at a bad angle.
The spool of chakra thread inside the puppet's core had run out, and hence the puppet was deactivated.
Asher grunted and sank back into the sand, slipping beneath the surface as if the sand had turned into soupy water until the puppet was completely hidden once again. There was no sign he had even been in the vicinity.
Morty reached his right hand and clasped the umbrella. A chakra thread ebbed from the top of Morty's beach umbrella and latched onto the bird. The bird's beady black eyes sparked briefly and it hopped onto its feet, favouring its twisted leg and flapping its wings as it balanced on one leg. Morty's eyes checked the bird, stretching its wings, opening its beak, and testing its calling screech before he was satisfied that there were no other problems caused by the crash landing. The bird limped to the blanket, flapping its wide wings feebly and slumping under the shade.
Morty removed his hand from the umbrella and the bird deactivated, pulling its wings and legs together and shutting its eyes. The chakra strings flowing from the top of the umbrella receded.
He opened the scroll and three books tumbled out of the messy storage seal, falling on his lap. The boy couldn't help the amused smirk that ghosted over his emotionless face.
His sister, One, had the worst sense of humour. It was comical how a one-eighth Uzumaki that had the Kraken summoning seal and a strong grasp on fuinjutsu purposely made her storage seals shoddy. Her handwriting was just as messy. Rushed and rambling, like how he knew her to be:
Brother,
How are you? Have you been eating well? Send me a picture so I know you're doing okay. I sent one too. It's me and my new family. I still can't believe that I have a family. A real, blood family.
No offence.
They're so civilian. I love it. Genji Junior, my cousin, doesn't even know how to make a fist! Can you believe it? It's not easy living with people that are so soft. I'm scared I'll do something that'll break them, like shake their hands too hard. But it's a breath of fresh air living with them. The house is so small but it's so warm. The village is really small and private but they're all so welcoming. The people are so curious about visitors that they hardly think about their safety. It's worrying.
You would love it here.
How are you though? Is Danzo giving you any trouble? I've been talking to Sam, and he thinks he should defect too. He says that Danzo is getting more paranoid about CORE, so he's sent surveillance to watch him. Don't worry about me. Where I'm at is way out of the way. They won't be able to find me or my family or the village.
It's crazy though, how Tenzo's wood clone mopped the floor with seventeen ROOT ninjas. I've never been scared of ROOT but hearing about that sealed the deal for me. If they managed to find me, they won't ever leave alive.
I know you're being careful. And I know that you're not defenceless, with Asher and Shini and Ooki, and all your other puppets. I just can't help but worry about you, Morty. If you decide to defect, let me know and I'll get Brother Naruto (Nine-Nine) to smuggle you to safety. I promise.
Stay safe.
Your favourite sister, One :D
After those last words, a picture popped out from a small storage seal. It was a photograph of One and her family, likely taken by a professional photographer working for Naruto. It was a black and white photo of a massive man wearing a stoic frown, with a slim woman to his left, holding him by his elbow, one teenage boy on the woman's left, and two adult men on the large man's right. His sons. They wore matching kimonos. Except for One, who was in front of her uncle, one hand perched on the butt of her katana and facing the photographer with an open smile, standing with her chest puffed and her chin tilted up.
She looks happy, Morty remarked.
He sighed and looked to his left, catching sight of a glint many miles away. A pair of binoculars.
It was true that their master, Danzo, had all CORE operatives under surveillance since a small chunk of their strongest operatives had defected. The man had gone so far as to recall 90% of his specialised operatives back to the base in Konoha. Only a minority were allowed to stay on the field, like Morty and Boomer, simply because they were too unpredictable to be close to Danzo. Just in case they were compromised.
Naruto and Tenzo's defecting felt inevitable since they were far closer to each other than anything, but One and Sandy's defection was something worse. Their admiration of Naruto was high but their devotion to Danzo was absolute. Nearly, since they ended up changing sides either way.
It meant that anyone else could lose faith in Danzo and his methods, and decamp.
Personally, Morty didn't see the point of being watched, especially after getting wind of Tenzo's exploits.
Seventeen ninjas pouring over one wood clone had ended in utter failure. A pitiful disaster. The reality was that it would take not less than one hundred shinobi against the original Tenzo to make him stumble. Five hundred fully trained ROOT ninjas would need to band together to make one CORE ninja fall. The very same went for all of them, regardless of their status as the most skilled CORE Operatives.
In Morty's case, Asher alone could wipe out the ROOT ninjas at the headquarters. Adding another puppet, or even Morty himself, was simply overkill.
Danzo's best chance against a CORE that hadn't yet defected, if or when the time came, was either to activate the suicide/tracking seal on their tongue or…
Or…to pit another CORE against them.
Morty hummed tonelessly, tapping a finger on the scroll.
That would be unfortunate.
If someone utterly fanatical and loyal to the air Danzo breathed, like Wheelie, was sent to assassinate Morty, things would get tricky. Morty wasn't sure how that particular matchup would end. Either way, it would end well. Not for them and not for anyone in the immediate environment.
Fighting elephants and whatnot.
Something not many siblings knew was that Morty didn't kill anyone during the Graduation ceremony. He had hunkered down on a balcony as Asher stood in front of him. None dared approach him, purposely skirting out of Asher's range and murdering their other siblings. At that time, Morty was only known as CORE Operative Twenty-One.
He was given the name Morty by One after their graduation.
The bodies of their siblings were left in the arena, lying messily on the ground, either in pieces or mutilated beyond recognition. Following Naruto running away, the arena was closed and no one returned to it, as it was a dead monument of their pain and suffering, both during their graduation and also when their brother ran away.
Only Twenty-One went back.
He gathered the bodies of his siblings. Alone. Not even with the help of Asher or any of his other puppets. He cleaned them, dressed them respectfully, and cremated them in a befitting manner of someone who dearly loved his family. He did so with professional ease, not shedding a tear, or breaking down in agony at the sight of his dead and broken siblings. All four hundred of them. He kept their ashes in the Temple.
Morty was CORE's Mortician. He cared for their dead when no one cared for them, even though the living barely cared for him. He bore the suspicious looks thrown at him, endured the scathing whispers behind his back, and tolerated the isolation of his family.
The boy abruptly sealed the four books he brought with him to the desert and made a mental note to send them to his sister in Iron Country. He folded the scroll and tucked it into his sleeve, casting a short look at his observers as he did so, daring them to make a move.
Morty was a fearful boy, though not in the way that was portrayed by normal, functioning members of society.
The boy feared the loss of control.
He lived in a world that took what it wanted when it wanted, and Morty, though enjoying the duality of this natural life, pushed against it.
He wanted to be in control of his life, his fate, and, most especially, his death. Anything else was none of his business.
His ambition in life was to defy nature. Control his destiny.
He would go when he wanted to go, not when nature demanded he perish.
Death followed Morty, literally and figuratively.
That was why Morty, from the very day after his graduation, removed the suicide/tracking seal on his tongue. That was three years ago and Danzo had not breathed one word about it. The man scarcely saw or acknowledged the boy. Morty also created numerous countermeasures to exhibit his control over his destiny.
At the bottom of the dune was a ramshackle wooden shed, abandoned for several years and in a severe state of decay. The door was closed, shading the inside from the elements.
Inside the shed was a dead body, naked, hanging by its ankle from a meat hook screwed to the ceiling. Its head was sawn off. The body was cleanly split open from its pelvis to its neck, oozing blood into a metal pan on the floor. The internal organs were cut out, presently sitting inside two metal buckets at the back of the shed, with a third bucket containing the head of the dead body. The eyes were plucked out and the cranium was cut open, empty with no brain and tongue, which were also in the bucket containing organs.
A different bucket held the dead person's clothes and their other valuables, haphazardly heaped inside. There was also a slashed forehead protector from Hidden Rock.
Morty couldn't be bothered to know the rank of the person, or even recall their name, age, or skillset. In the grand scheme of things, none of that mattered. Crossing paths with COREs Mortician only ended in one way.
Death.
Their body would be used to make the most special creation.
They would make a wonderful puppet.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Namikaze-Uzumaki Household
Konoha
Hiashi Hyuuga took off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack close to the entrance, pulling off a pair of gloves and tucking them into the pocket of his coat, rubbing his hands together. Without looking, he took off his shinobi sandals and arranged them underneath the coat rack, slipping on a pair of fluffy pink slippers. He glanced at the thermostat and his disinterested lips twitched down. It wasn't cold but it could be warmer.
"Can I increase the heat?" he leaned into the dining room, just as Kushina exited the kitchen with a tray of toast. Laying it at the centre of the neat table. She looked up at her former teammate with creased eyebrows.
"When did you start paying our heating bill, Hiashi?"
The man scoffed at her sarcasm. "Fine." He made to stride into the dining room but was stopped by a knock on the door.
"Help me get that."
"Yeah," the man answered flippantly, peering through the peephole on the door. He called to his old friend, who returned to the kitchen and was pouring hot water into a ceramic kettle, "It's Mikoto and Fugaku."
"Alright!" Kushina called back, waddling carefully into the dining room as Hiashi opened the door, smiling invisibly at Mikoto and greeting her with a warm hug.
"Morning," the Hyuuga said, releasing the woman and shaking hands with her husband, stepping back and allowing the couple to remove their coats and shoes, wearing the indoor slippers waiting for them at the door. Hiashi helped their young son remove his warm jacket, patting the quiet boy's head.
Mikoto smiled. "Morning." She furrowed her brow, stepping into the dining room and looking around. "Nanami couldn't make it?"
Hiashi shook his head. "She's been feeling under the weather." Mikoto's lips pursed, casting a nervous look at Fugaku, and the Uchiha man grunted. Hiashi, seeing the silent message pass between the couple assured them by saying, "The doctors don't think it has anything to do with the pregnancy. Might be a seasonal cold."
Fugaku moved to the right side of the table and wordlessly pulled out a seat. Mikoto thankfully took it, sitting down with a relieved sigh. The Uchiha man patted her shoulder once and Mikoto kissed his hand, smiling when he sat next to her. "I'm glad it's nothing serious."
Hiashi planted himself across from them, smoothing down his shirt and helping Itachi into a seat next to him, gingerly pouring himself a teacup of hot water, grabbing a teabag from the middle of the table and dropping it inside his cup. Mikoto did the same for herself and her husband. Kushina hurried out of the kitchen with a tin cup of hot chocolate, smiling as she slid it to Itachi, who gratefully wrapped his hands around the cup. His legs dangled from the chair, swinging animatedly as he took one large swallow from his cup.
"Thanks, Auntie."
"You're very welcome, Itachi." Kushina ruffled the boy's head.
"Good boy," Fugaku murmured to himself, looking down at his boy with a terse frown.
Finally, Kushina came in with a loaf of sliced bread on a different tray. "Please, help yourselves." She gestured to the bread as she moved to the chair at the end of the table, removing her apron and sitting down. "Minato should be—"
"I'm here!" Minato announced as he trooped down the stairs, strolling purposefully into the dining room and seating himself at the head of the table. He beamed at Itachi first, and the boy's lips stretched into a wide smile, swinging his feet gaily as he chewed on a slice of bread. He merrily slapped Fugaku's shoulder, making the man grunt in displeasure as he tried applying a healthy dollop of jam onto his toast. "Good morning."
"Morning to you too, Lord Hokage," Fugaku grumbled, wincing from an elbow to his side from his wife.
"Upset tummy, you know how he is." Mikoto rolled her eyes. Fugaku snorted, not saying anything else and continuing his breakfast.
"I'm glad you guys could still make it," Minato said, nodding to Hiashi. "When Nanami gets better, let us know so we can come and visit."
Hiashi nodded. He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and helped wipe some crumbs from Itachi's chin, pulling some slices of bread closer to the boy. The boy grunted, pushing the man's hand away, much to their collective amusement.
"Have you started school yet, Itachi?"
"No." the boy shook his head. "Daddy says I'm too small."
Minato nodded, nudging Fugaku. "Your daddy's right. Make sure to drink plenty of milk so you grow nice and tall, okay?"
"Mhm!" the boy mumbled, drinking his hot chocolate.
"I've been tutoring him though," Mikoto said, daintily swallowing some toast. "He's learning his ABCs. He's a very smart boy, aren't you, Itachi?"
The boy flushed, not answering as he leaned into his tin cup. Fugaku frowned.
Kushina cooed, pinching his cheek. "I just know you'll grow up nice and strong."
Minato chuckled, and their breakfast continued normally, interspersed with light conversation.
These large meals happened only once a month, changing houses so that each family could host a breakfast, lunch, or dinner. They had been having meals like this since their chunin days, often moving from apartment to apartment, or going to restaurants with coupons. They had known each other for so long, it made sense that they wanted their children and their children's children to be close, and with Kushina expecting a child, Nanami expecting her and Hiashi's first child, and Mikoto starting to fill out with her second baby, their little family was growing.
"So, how are you feeling, Minato?" Hiashi asked, touching the sides of his lips with his handkerchief, sitting back in content. "Tomorrow's the big day."
Minato quietly gnawed on his tongue, turning the question in his head for a moment, and then he looked to Hiashi, his blue eyes turning with anticipation. "I'm feeling like big things are coming."
Fugaku snorted. He grunted in a solemn tone, "Bigger than what's already happened?"
Minato nodded. "Much bigger."
The Fourth had been Hokage for only one week and so much had happened to Konoha. Thankfully for the better; the Council had been shaken to its core and old, corrupt members were arrested, had their assets seized to the last ryu, and carted to the T for holding until they were tried at Konoha's Tribunal. Some former clan heads were also detained. The seized assets were absorbed into Konoha's pockets and redistributed throughout the system. Food prices were sliding down and crop production was increasing. Village morale was at an all-time high, as civilians and shinobi alike voiced their approval of the Hokage's manhandling of the nefarious elements in his government. New Council members were promptly appointed, restructuring power in such a way that any opportunity for theft was blocked.
The Elders were all under house arrest, with not a penny to their name.
Except Danzo, who was resisting arrest and was in hiding.
Minato knew the man was still in Konoha. Hiding in the ROOT base. He just didn't know where.
The Hokage had to console himself with the fact that Danzo's reputation was tarnished; the publicised audit report was still trending in the country, four days later. Konoha's treasury once only had a few million when Minato took office. Now, it is in the hundreds of millions and growing.
Minato swiftly used the newly raised funds on all of the projects he intended to perform, like revamping the curriculum of the Academies, hiring new teachers and buying better teaching tools, rebuilding the orphanage, the old folks homes, and homes destroyed by the war, strengthening Konoha's borders and sentry posts, supporting Konoha's Embassy in Earth Country, mending relations with Suna and repairing the Konoha-Suna Highway, taking care of the refugees at Konoha's gates, and so much more.
"I'm hearing the people calling you their Peacetime Hokage," Mikoto smirked, rubbing the crumbs from her fingertips. "You've done a lifetime of work in one week. I'm excited to see what you do in a year. Twenty years too, hopefully."
One of Kushina's eyebrows twitched and her eyes flicked to the ceiling. She cleared her throat and pushed away from the table, standing up. "Excuse me." Minato made to get up but the woman waved for him to relax, smiling bashfully. "I'll be right back."
"Okay…" the man hesitantly sat back down, watching Kushina as she bustled out of the dining room, hurrying upstairs.
Kushina reached the top of the stairs and padded to the end, entering the baby's nursery and shutting the door after herself. The room hadn't progressed much since Naruto left one week ago, though the crib was finished.
Tenzo poked around inside a dresser, screwing something tightly in place. Kushina remembered the dresser being shorter, though now it was almost at chest height, sturdier. The screws on the side were neatly fixed and not bent at odd angles, and the paint job on the dresser wasn't scuffed or chipped as Kushina remembered.
"How long have you been here?" Kushina asked quizzically, face twisted in a mash of confusion and annoyance.
"Been here all morning," Tenzo replied, tightening a screw and leaning back, wiping his brow and looking at his host with an unimpressed stare. "I thought you two were supposed to be jounin sensors."
Kushina flushed in embarrassment. She clicked her tongue and stood straighter, stubbornly proud as she simply said, "Hormones."
Tenzo blushed, scratching the back of his head. "Sorry."
"It's fine." Her pink eyes shifted from the thirteen-year-old boy, looking to the dresser. "Did you get a new one?"
"Nope." Tenzo put the screwdriver into a pocket of his black jounin vest. He didn't have any other clothes other than his CORE shinobi uniform. He rubbed his nose. "I was bored, so I decided to fix it." Kushina strolled to the dresser and tested the drawers, marvelling at the ease at which she pulled them out and pushed them back in. "Did you follow the instructions?"
"You know god damn well I did."
Tenzo stepped away, raising his hands. "I didn't mean to offend."
Kushina shut her eyes and forced out an exhale, calming herself. "You're fine." She casually walked to the crib, eying it to see if anything had been changed. "Did you…?"
Tenzo shrugged. "Not yet."
Kushina winced, chewing on her bottom lip. "Can you…?"
The boy stifled a laugh, shrugging again. "Sure."
The woman bobbed her head appreciatively. She rubbed her hands, motioning to him. "About my other request…"
Tenzo sucked in a deep breath and nodded, rubbing his nose again. "Yes." He unsealed a fairly large cardboard box and set it on the ground. The box was blank and unmarked, taped at the top. "It wasn't easy getting all of this. I had to break into the Hyuuga compound and the ROOT Archives. I also found someone that used to know her—alive, somehow—and he gave me some info. Filled in some blank spaces for me."
Kushina chewed on her thumbnail, walking to the box and kneeling. Tenzo backed away. Her hands shakily hovered over the top.
"Kushina," Tenzo said in a sullen voice. The woman looked at him and saw that the boy was looking back at her with sorrowful, sunken eyes. "It's a lot. Once you start, there's no going back. Are you sure you want to do this?"
Kushina pursed her lips tightly, her heart hammering in her chest and her fingers still hovering over the top of the box. Her body was frozen, as if her fingertips were pressed against a barrier that kept her from opening the box. She swallowed and inhaled, nodding once.
"I need to know the whole story." She looked at the box, willing her hands to settle on the top. Her stomach turned uncomfortably and her pulse became more rapid. "Naruto needs to know the whole story."
"Okay." Tenzo walked past her to the window. "Brother Naruto will be around soon. Will you be alright by yourself?"
Kushina nodded.
"Okay," the boy repeated under his breath, climbing out of the window, leaving Kushina by herself with the box.
Inside the box was the life story of Kimiko Hyuuga, Danzo's first beloved daughter and Naruto's mother.
As well as her violent, cruel end at Danzo's hands.
Authors note
You guys are going to find out what happened to Naruto's mother soon. It's going to be heavy.
In other news, how was your 2024? Positive and eventful, I hope! Lots of stuff happened this year, some good and some bad, some for better and some for worse, but what matters is that we all made it to see the end and together we're going to see the start of 2025. There are people who dreamed of seeing the last few moments of this year and couldn't, unfortunately, but we're all blessed to be alive.
Take a moment and look back at what you've achieved in 2024. It doesn't have to be big. Maybe it's something only you understand, and that's okay. Appreciate that it happened, focus on where you didn't do so well, and look forward to 2025.
Feel free to share something you're proud of—I'd love to hear it! For example: I joined a gym, got my Masters, started my PhD, and bought myself a new phone. In that order. I'd rate 2024 a decent 7/10 XD
I want to say that I am truly grateful to every one of you, dear readers, for helping to make my 2024 amazing. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading and enjoying! I'm a few hours too early but...
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
From Foy