Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"I will believe in you, Uzumaki Naruto. I entrust you with setting the world right. I'll give you a chance to do it again, because though you are strong, it's too late. When the time comes, I will remember, but you will be sent back with all of your knowledge. Use it. Do not give up." The emaciated man put his hands together one last time, offering a small smile to the stunned teen, "Jikannohizumi no jutsu!"

Minato stared at the Kyuubi with sad eyes. Things like this weren't supposed to happen. His son—and he looked down, his breath catching, because the tiny baby was so damn beautiful—had just been born. He had a family now. He had a wife—a hot-headed, loud, cranky, sarcastic, gorgeous, loving, generous wife—and a perfect newborn son.

He tore his eyes from his baby boy to look at the disaster that was going to rip his life apart.

The Kyuubi was a ruthless creature; it had only been, at most, sixteen hours since it had first attacked and half of Konoha's military force was gone. Minato supposed it was a bit selfish to be glad that Kushina was still bed-ridden after Naruto's birth, and that Jiraiya-sensei and Tsunade-hime weren't in the village, but he couldn't help it. As it was, he had had to force a promise out of Sarutobi's old, withered hide to not fight (because it was suicide, and even though many of Konoha's ninja knew this, they still fought) and take back the mantle of the Hokage once he was gone.

Gamabunta had assured him that he would be able to linger long enough after his death to get both him and Naruto to a safe place. He wasn't worried about falling from Gamabunta's head after the toad boss vanished because he would be dead—unfeeling, but he was carrying his son and he wanted, needed, to know that he would be safe.

He shifted on the summon boss's head, stabilizing himself for the short travel ahead of him. "Let's go, Gamabunta, it's time."

The toad didn't say anything; he merely coiled the muscles in his legs and jumped, traveling in powerful strides towards the battle sight with a grim face.

Ten minutes later, Minato was in the same spot Gamabunta had landed in, shock written across his features. The Kyuubi was gone, sealed, just as it should be (he tried to ignore the fact that he was lying to himself, because he should be dead and he wasn't), but he was still alive.

Minato decided that, at this moment, he wouldn't worry about it. He was alive, and he had a chance to keep his family. For now, that was all that mattered.

Naruto watched the slumbering Bijuu, a frown etched on his face. Something had gone wrong—something was different this time. He could feel it.

Pein—Nagato?—had sent him back. How, he didn't know, but he was a child again; a baby. The Kyuubi was freshly sealed.

It was ridiculous if he thought about it, and if this was just all some elaborate genjutsu, he was screwed anyway; the power needed to manipulate the seal itself was ridiculous—not even the Sharingan could hope to do it.

He looked away from the cage, from the beast that had caused him so much pain. He shut his eyes tightly. He had a chance to start over—to change everything. His fists tightened in remembrance of Kakashi-sensei's absent chakra signature, a sure sign that he had passed, and Sasuke's dead stare at the Valley of the End, an expression that had stayed with him years after that day. His Tsunade-baa-chan had fought so hard against Akatsuki. He remembered her collapsing limply after he had arrived, her genjutsu broken (and he didn't care what she said, she was still beautiful even in old age). Ero-sennin's death—and thinking about that still hurt—had hit him hard and now, now he was alive. And then, there was shy little Hinata-chan's courageous charge against a seemingly undefeatable foe.

And my father, he added. He bit his lip harshly, enough to draw blood had he been in the physical world. He had met his father. He had been about to become a slathering, murderous beast and his father had shown up and stopped it. He had saved him.

His father said he believed in him.

Naruto forcibly unclenched his hands and let out a shuddering sigh. There was so much to do and so little time. His eyes, resigned, cut back to the Kyuubi.

So little time.

Minato sucked in a harsh breath and his hold on his son tightened. Tears burned in his eyes and a lump formed in his throat—because, God, it hurt so, so, so much to see her laying there, her hair caked in her own blood, stomach still distended from pregnancy (and she had glowed then), with hastily thrown-on armor that didn't fit correctly around her torso—as he looked upon the scene.

He had been so hopeful, so lucky, that he had lived past the sealing. And now, his wife was gone, dead. She had done something stupid again, charging in headfirst against the Kyuubi after giving birth to their child.

He knelt, brushing a lock of fire-red hair from her pale, beautiful face, and as his calloused fingers coasted across the smooth, blood-specked skin of her cheek, Minato could almost hear his heart breaking.

Standing suddenly, he held back a sob, his chest aching, as he turned his back on her cold, dead body because he simply couldn't look at her empty stare anymore. I'll raise him right, Kushina. I promise.

Minato almost had a heart attack when he looked down to see his son staring straight at him with Kushina's eyes. The Fourth smiled bitterly. Kushina had whined and complained—all while holding him to her chest with fierce protectiveness—that her baby boy didn't look like her at all. He has your eyes, Kushina. You'd be so happy.

He had long since swathed the child in his battle coat, and was walking through the streets, seeing nothing but the tiny child in his arms. Minato let a small smile grace his face. Kushina was gone, yes, but he still had his child. It hurt to think that, because she had left her bed and the safety of the hospital for the dangerous battlegrounds around the attacking Bijuu, Naruto would have grown up alone, without parents.

He loved Kushina with every fiber of his being and he missed her just as much, but he couldn't help but be angry at her for that. Their son was worth so much more than a reckless charge at a raging mass of demonic chakra.

The Fourth let out a grief-filled sigh. He wished, for just a moment, that Kushina had been more mature, but quickly discarded the thought—Minato loved her as she had been; vices and all.

He raised a hand to caress Naruto's cheek, fingers sliding over the smooth skin and tracing the grooves in his face, the marks of Kyuubi's possession. Naruto was the only thing he had left, and he was damned if he was going to let anything hurt his son.

"Hokage-sama!"

The shout brought him out of his thoughts, and he looked up for the first time in half an hour, eyes sharpening as he spotted a squad of ANBU hurrying towards him. His back straightened and his arms tightened around Naruto. He answered them with a nod of acknowledgment and a, "Yes?"

Minato watched warily as the team captain's face dipped towards the bundle in his arms after they bowed, "Sir, is that another orphan?" One of the man's arms stretched out towards Naruto as if to take him from Minato, gloved fingers just brushing the fabric Naruto was wrapped in, before Minato's stomach clenched, his eyes narrowing dangerously. His right arm raced forward, his left still cradling Naruto carefully, and his fingers tightened painfully around the ANBU's wrist as he yanked the man's grasping appendage away from his son.

The entire squad tensed as they watched their Hokage's stance shift from normal to threatening in a second, his entire form radiating menace. The squad leader's face contorted in a grimace of pain underneath his mask as his wrist was slowly crushed by the Yondaime's powerful fingers.

"H-Hokage-sama," the team medic stuttered out, "please release Suzume-taicho."

Minato's eyes flickered to the woman who had spoken for a second, making her flinch slightly at the icy, unnerving gaze, before they returned to Suzume. His grip tightened minutely in warning before removing itself completely, to which the man let out a quiet sigh of relief and quickly retracted his injured limb.

He quickly bowed, "My apologies, Hokage-sama, for not asking your permission before invading your person."

Minato frowned, his stare still venomous, "I removed your hand not from my person, but from the child. Do not touch, or even approach, him without my permission. Understood?"

The squad gaped at him for several seconds, before hastily agreeing when the Yondaime's eyes narrowed even more.

"Good," Minato stated, his stance relaxing. He glanced down at his son briefly to assure his safety, starting slightly when he saw that the boy's eyes were still open and watching his every move, before returning his attention to the gathered nin in from of him. His actions against the ANBU captain had drawn attention from more than one person on the street, though their stares went unheeded, "Report."

Sarutobi looked up, startled, when he heard the door to his office snap shut. Cursing his inattention, shock registered on his face when he caught sight of Minato, still alive and breathing, gazing back at him with sad eyes.

He lurched forward, out of his chair and across the room in instant, hands, wizened with old age, coming to rest on his successor's shoulders. "Was it successful?" he asked.

Minato heaved a tired sigh and nodded, shifting his arms slightly. It was then that Sarutobi noticed the bundle in them. That must be Naruto. His fingers came up to trace the indentations on the child's face, keen eyes having not missed Minato's tensing as he touched his son.

"I won't harm him," Sarutobi assured. "I can promise you that." Minato nodded and relaxed slightly at his words.

"His eyes are open," the older man noted.

At his comment, Naruto's eyes shifted from his father to him. The stare was slightly unnerving if Sarutobi was honest with himself.

"This is the first time he's looked away from me," Minato admitted. "He hasn't cried at all since the sealing."

Sarutobi frowned. Odd, he thought. Newborns don't usually don't stay this quiet this long.

The Sandaime shook his head, clearing those thoughts. There were more important things to worry about at the moment, and Naruto's blue-eyed gaze wasn't one of them. He gestured for Minato to take a seat, stealing the cushioned Hokage's chair for himself—the spoils of old age, he reasoned.

Minato still had yet to put Naruto down, but he wasn't about to deprive the man of his son.

Sarutobi pressed his fingertips together and silently gestured for Minato to begin his tale.

"Kushina is dead," the blond said bluntly. Naruto let out a quiet whimper at the words and Hiruzen's eyes widened at the information. "She died on the battlefield," he added. His grief was plain to see to those who knew how to look for it. Sarutobi had seen just how much his successor had loved the red-haired woman. Her absence would not be easy on him.

"I'm so sorry, Minato," he said.

The man held up his hand, cutting off any additional condolences. He didn't want to hear them. "It was her choice," he stated. "I just wish that she had chosen her son over her village, for both mine and Naruto's sakes. I wasn't able to choose my son," he choked, "but she was." A bitter smile traced his features, "Karma has a nasty way of making itself known. Here I am when I was supposed to die, and Kushina has practically taken my place when she was to live."

The Sandaime grunted. "We must count our blessings right now," he said. "The Kyuubi, while damaging our ninja force and the outlying towns and farms severely, did not enter the immediate village; Konoha's villagers and infrastructure survived the attack. The civilians are being led out of the shelters as we speak." Minato nodded, he had been told as much from the ANBU's impromptu report. He didn't want to think about what Konoha was going to have to do to replenish its shinobi force—they would have to take drastic measures. "What I would like to know, however, is how you are still alive. You spent an hour assuring me that the sealing was suicide—that I would need to stay in this office and take it back over once you were gone."

Minato grunted. He was not looking forward to explaining. "It was—is, actually. The reason I'm still alive, though, is because I didn't use it."

Sarutobi blanched, and scooted towards the edge of his chair, gripping the oak desk with trembling hands. "Are you trying to say the Kyuubi is still out there? That it might come back? The village wouldn't be able to handle another attack! The plan was to seal it, not drive it off."

Minato shook his head. "Don't jump to conclusions, old man. The Kyuubi is sealed—when I told you it was successful, I meant it—and it is in Naruto as planned. I've checked the arrays and everything is as it should be; only I'm still here."

Hiruzen was baffled, "Do you know how this occurred?"

The blond stilled and his eyes dropped to his son. He could only hope that Sarutobi would take this well. "Naruto did it," I think, he finally said. It was the only explanation that didn't involve divine intervention—after all, he hadn't lost all his marbles, just most of them. "The Kyuubi… it was willing. Naruto had started crying just as I was about to do the hand seals for the summoning and the Kyuubi must have heard it, 'cause it stopped—it stopped everything—and just looked at Naruto. I didn't know what was going on.

"It was when the Kyuubi started walking towards us that I tried to start the hand seals again, but neither Gamabunta nor I could move. It was like I was stuck in a block of dried cement. Kyuubi was advancing on my son, and I could do nothing to stop it. I was terrified. When Kyuubi was close enough to touch Naruto with his tails, he did just that, and stood still again." He pushed a shaky hand through his hair; the dread that his son would be killed before his eyes by the monster that was going to take everything from him still had him in its grip. "I thought that we were all done for, but it just said, "I understand," and vanished—no flash of light or puff of smoke, it just vanished. A second later, Naruto stopped crying and the seal appeared on his stomach. It was perfect, like I had done it myself."

Sarutobi's mouth was gaping. Minato's story was ridiculous and he told him as much.

The Yondaime shrugged, "Yes, I know it is, but at the moment, I don't see much more that I can do."

Stunned at the man's nonchalance, he glared, "What if the Kyuubi is possessing Naruto, then? Or what if the seal won't hold because it was done incorrectly? I can't believe you are writing something like this off! Your son could be a demon, or worse, the Kyuubi itself!"

Minato stood abruptly, bearing down on the man that dared accuse his son of being the monster that took his wife and comrades. "Do not call my son a demon!" Minato spat. "I will not have you speak ill of him or the burden he carries! My son will never fall prey to the Kyuubi's influence! I have checked and re-checked the seals: they are stable, stronger than I would have predicted, and they work! The Kyuubi is contained, and while I have no explanation for still being among the living, I never would have thought that you would not only doubt my intelligence, skill, and my son, but be ungrateful for the blessing of my life!"

He returned Sarutobi's glare full-force. "Do not even think to presume that I would risk my village or my son to carelessness. I am no fool, Sarutobi Hiruzen, nor am I an idiot. I can assure you that if I am to expect the response you so readily displayed to be my son's standard reception, I will not make the mistake of putting Konoha first again—ever. I did not become the kage of a village to watch over pitiful cretins."

Minato's angry words and arctic glare caused the Sandaime to flinch. He had never seen the blond man so furious in all the years he'd known him. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Forgive an old man his mistakes, Minato. I apologize to both you and Naruto for my words and thoughts."

The Yondaime's gaze did not soften. "Your age has nothing to do with this, Sarutobi." He looked away from the former kage, "You will not tell anyone of this—and I mean anyone. No one is to know of Naruto's connection to the Kyuubi. I have told you this in confidence—if those useless bigots on the council find out, they will be signing their death warrants. I will not hesitate in protecting my son."

The Sandaime nodded solemnly. "I understand," he said, and he did; Minato was well within his rights to request secrecy.

Minato gave a nod. He was done. He wanted to go home, to mourn his wife and tend to his beautiful son, but he knew he was needed on the streets—the people should see their leader; it would bolster moral, and, right now, moral was what Konoha desperately needed. "I'll send word to you if I need anything; I trust you'll do the same."

He walked out after disengaging the office's security seals without waiting for a reply.

The streets were packed; loved ones were reuniting, families mourning, and shinobi resting or waiting for medics to tend to them because the hospital was simply too full. Minato watched sadly as team after team came back from the battlefield bearing the tell-tale scrolls, always marked with a black stripe and leaf emblem on the left side, which carried the bodies of Konoha's brave shinobi.

It seemed that news of the Kyuubi's defeat had already spread, and while none knew the specifics, most were more than happy to fill in the blanks themselves. He was greeted as a hero and martyr—and he hated it.

His stomach was churning after ten minutes of heart-felt thanks and condolences because, along with news of Kyuubi's "annihilation," knowledge of Kushina's death had also become widely known. Minato didn't want to hear their half-assed sympathies and apologies. He didn't want his face rubbed in the fact that his wife was dead and he was left to raise their newborn son on his own. He didn't want to accept the fact that just when his life was coming together, he was going to have to cope with the loss of an important piece of himself—of his heart.

As much as he loved his village and its people, he abhorred them all at that moment.

Quelling his nausea and growing agitation, he plastered a smile on his face, trudging tiredly through the streets giving nods, handshakes, and kind words to those that needed it. He skillfully dodged questions about the babe in his arms—he didn't want his offspring to be common knowledge yet and had, in an attempt to ward off the nosy, wrapped Naruto's head to conceal his vibrant hair color, a perfect match to his own, in a small blue knitted cap.

Minato knew he shouldn't feel guilty for the deaths of the shinobi, but he couldn't help but feel that he should have been out there, fighting with his fellows, instead of being in his office, pouring over seal after seal while people ran to their deaths. He shook his head. The past was the past, and there was nothing he could do to change it.

The amount of orphaned children was staggering. While Konoha's immediate village and its inhabitants (barring active duty ninja) were not harmed in the attack, refugees from neighboring towns that had been devastated by the Kyuubi's rampage were pouring in the gates. Minato watched as groups of children, many of the younger holding onto teens or each other, flocked to corners where they could gather, bunched together like some sort of pack. The adults were in no condition to take care of them—many were injured or near dead, or had their own families to look after.

He rubbed a hand across his face. As the Yondaime, and a father himself, he wouldn't allow himself to let these children go uncared for. He'd have to see if any families in Konoha would be willing enough to take a child or two in.

What pulled at his heartstrings, though, was that Naruto would have been one of them, only he wouldn't have been able to be adopted. He would have grown up alone, forsaken.

Minato was no imbecile. Just as Sarutobi had jumped to conclusions earlier after hearing his rendition of the sealing, many would harbor resentment (or outright hate, but thinking that made him angry, and he really, really could not afford to let his emotions get the best of him right now) for what he contained. The Yondaime had already seen the ugliness of humanity; he had no illusion that his son would have had a happy, easy life. As it was, had he died, Naruto would have been unaided his entire childhood because adopting him would have provided too many with an alley towards manipulation or exploitation. Kushina's death had ensured that.

He sent a thank you to whatever deity had ensured his survival; his son needed a father.

Chapter Text

This baby business was stressful. Highly stressful. At least, it was for Naruto—not that he had an expert on call to consult with. (He could picture how that would go: "Hey mister, when you were a teen stuck in a baby's body, how did you feel?")

The point was (and yes, he was conversing with himself now—it's not like he could do it with anyone else), now that he had to start from the beginning again, he couldn't eat good food. What's on the menu? Milk, milk... and, oh, more milk! He dreaded the thought of graduating onto disgustingly mushy baby food that would probably taste like overcooked feet. He resisted the urge to whimper. How he wished for a steaming bowl of delicious, mouth-watering, miso ramen… And as entertaining as it was to see Minato make retarded faces, thinking his 'baby' boy enjoyed them when he was, in reality, laughing himself silly at the poor bastard, there was only so much of that that he could tolerate.

He was bored. He was lonely. His vocal chords weren't developed enough to make anything other than inarticulate gurgling (and he had sure as hell tried). The diapers were a whole different story. Humiliating and disgusting didn't even begin to cover them. He could not wait to be able to use a toilet again. And, by Kami, just why did babies have to sleep so much?

He was sulking and he knew it, but everything was passing so slowly! Naruto glowered at his reflection in the water at his feet. It wasn't that he had any real sense of time, because he didn't, but he was impatient. Madara was out there; he had put the Kyuubi up to attacking Konoha, and had gotten away.

Naruto wasn't sure if Pein's intention had been to keep the Yondaime alive (his dad could probably kick Akatsuki's collective asses and look cool doing it!) or if this—his status as a newborn—was the man's idea of a joke, or if… or if Nagato had meant to give him a chance at having a childhood before he had to clean up the world's dirty laundry. However, despite not knowing his reasons for doing this, Naruto was grateful… even when stuck in soggy diapers.

He sighed and dragged a hand through his hair, still in front of Kyuubi's cage while his fragile body slept. Now all this free time was making him think. A wry smile crept onto his face.

Naruto wondered if pigs were finally flying.

"He's going to have a complex, you know." Those were the first words out of his sensei's mouth when he entered his student's office through the window.

Minato raised an eyebrow from his position on a couch on the side of the room. A shadow clone was doing paperwork at his desk while he tended his son. "How so?" he asked.

"There are rumors going around that you never put the kid down. He'll be ridiculously spoiled, I'll bet."

Minato laughed, "He certainly will be!" He turned the abruptly squirming child around to face Jiraiya, who was watching the pair with a smirk and smiling eyes.

"He'll be a looker, just like his father."

Minato snorted, shook his head, and said, "Here, take him. He wants you." And Naruto did. The baby was gurgling and reaching towards the tall sannin anxiously, chubby fists waving.

Jiraiya scooped him up in large but gentle hands, and nestled the newborn in the crook of his arm. He grinned at the child and jiggled his index finger under the boy's chin. Naruto had calmed instantly once he was within the sannin's grasp, and had latched a surprisingly strong grip on Jiraiya's red vest.

The older man turned serious eyes onto his student, all signs of joking and happiness gone. "How are you holding up?" he asked.

Minato, who had dismissed his clone and reclaimed his office chair, sighed and slumped back into soft padding, "Not too well," he admitted. Dark circles had formed under his eyes and he looked to have lost weight in the week since the Kyuubi attack. Naruto had been a blessing with his toothless smiles and warm weight, and though he kept odd hours, the cheerful baby proved to be a soothing balm on his worn soul.

Jiraiya's keen eyes caught his student's exhaustion. The man must have been run ragged by now with a flood new citizenship papers, establishing refugee funds, the rebuilding of Konoha's shinobi force, and organizing the new orphanages designed to house the many parentless children. He nodded, unsurprised, and broke the silence, "I heard about Kushina."

The Yondaime's lips pursed and his jaw tensed. "Blunt as ever, sensei," he ground out.

Jiraiya sighed and walked forward to place a hand on the blond man's stiff shoulder. "You need to talk about it," he said. "As much as Naruto needs you, as much as Konoha needs you, you can't let yourself become so wrapped up in your duties that you ignore your own grief."

Minato clenched his eyes shut and rubbed them with his thumb and forefinger. He tried to ignore their sudden burning. "I'm sure you know what happened," he said at last. Kami, he didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to think about it. His eyes were glued to the only uncluttered area on his desk, and he observed the dark grain with forced fascination.

The sannin grunted. He wasn't one for rumors when they concerned something so delicate. "Not completely and not from you," he retorted. "Tell me."

The young Hokage sucked in a shaky breath. "She went into labor the night before, around eleven," he began. "We weren't expecting it, and, at the time, we thought that it couldn't have happened at a worse moment. A team of scouts had just reported about Kyuubi's approach. We had scant hours to find a way to divert or stop it. Everyone was frantic—we were trying to get the civilians into the shelters and the forces mobilized…

"She had been in the middle of giving out orders to the Arufa-C's—" Jiraiya nodded at the mention of Konoha's Elite Alpha Chuunin units; Kushina had been instated as their Jounin Commander a year before, "—when her water broke. She hadn't told me she'd been having pains for hours beforehand—said that she was 'a shinobi, not some pansy-assed toddler who'd skinned their knee'. By the gods, she was still handing out orders from the hospital bed!"

Jiraiya chuckled, "That sounds like her, all right."

Minato grinned momentarily before his face blanked of all emotion. He received a comforting squeeze on his shoulder.

"She was in labor for exactly seventeen hours and sixteen minutes, and I wasn't there." His eyes shifted to his sensei, and then to his son, who stared back through half-lidded eyes. "I wasn't there for the birth of my son." His voice was a mere whisper. Minato tried to swallow against the enormous ball of emotion lodged in his throat.

There was silence in the circular room for a long moment, only broken by Minato's heavy gasps and Jiraiya and Naruto's soft breaths.

"I was lucky I had already been working on tertiary containment seals and secondary filters layered with primary and secondary chakra redirection matrixes… It was just some doodles—ideas I'd been fiddling with in my free time; a challenge." Jiraiya nodded. Minato was brilliant with seals, a far greater master than himself. "If I hadn't—"

His student broke off and turned haunted eyes on his sensei, "—I was fully willing to sell my soul and use my newborn son to ensure the safety of my home. And I was going to do it with an untested seal that was, in reality, only a prototype—a theory. The damn thing was incomplete."

Jiraiya eyed his student sadly, unable to do anything to lessen the man's pain, except listen.

"I took Naruto as soon as he was stabilized—his umbilical cord had been wrapped around his neck. Kushina put up a hell of a fight—told me I was stupid, suicidal, and entirely too self-sacrificing. She was right, of course, but I didn't see an alternate choice. I had to convince her that I wouldn't allow Naruto to die before she backed off. I checked in with Sarutobi, made him stay put, before I went out to die, to condemn my son to the life of a container."

Jiraiya's breath hitched and his eyes widened at this revelation. Naruto? A jinchuuriki? He didn't voice his questions, instead letting Minato continue.

The Fourth licked his chapped lips before persisting with an unsteady voice. "I had accepted," he said, "that she would listen to me, that she would stay safe and out of the way. I honestly don't know what she thought she was doing; if she had been trying to give me more time, or to ensure that Naruto was safe, or if she was jumping into the fray because of some misguided sense of duty, but she went out there, on the front line, and got herself killed." He paused.

"I… I remember thinking of how proud I was of my comrades, of my people. They were fighting even though it was certain death. I considered them brave, heroic." He shook his head and his lips quivered. "Now, when I've lost my wife, my friends, and almost gave my life to power a seal I wasn't sure was going to work, I can't help but wonder if it was stupidity, not bravery, that kept them out there, that made Kushina run out to 'help' right after labor when she knew I wasn't going to come back."

He was breaking the shinobi code now, and he was positive that his tear-streaked face and bloodshot eyes looked horrendous.

He didn't ask when Jiraiya produced a bottle of sake and two saucers out of nowhere, instead choosing to down two rapid shots of the stiff drink. He relished the slight warming in his belly before setting the cup aside and retrieving Naruto from Jiraiya's arms. He snuggled the boy to him, burying his nose in the downy hair, and breathed easier now that he had his son close.

"I don't know if I'll ever recover from her death, Jiraiya-sensei," he whispered. "It's going to be hard, raising Naruto on my own, but I wouldn't do anything to change that."

"I'm glad," Jiraiya said. He was sipping sake from his own saucer. "Have you arranged protection yet?" he asked, eyeing the ANBU reports—non-confidential—on the corner of Minato's large desk.

The Yondaime's lips thinned and his grip on Naruto tightened. He didn't like the idea of having to protect Naruto so thoroughly, that his reputation and position would put his baby in danger, but there was no arguing Jiraiya's point. At least the man hadn't suggested—unlike his secretary—that Minato get a nanny, a minder. As if Minato would let anyone but himself raise his son.

He'd probably assign Division 1's first squad… and second… and maybe third.

Jiraiya peeked over the man's shoulder at his student's scribbled notes and rolled his eyes. "No need to assign an entire division to guard the kid, Minato. One or two squads will be fine," he said, "not five."

Okay, so he might have been a bit excessive in trying to assign the entire Alpha ANBU division to guard a single baby—Hokage's son or not. Minato grunted and scratched out a large portion of his writing. "Fine," he sighed. "I'll assign squad A1 to close proximity and A2 to perimeter watch."

"Next thing I'll hear, you'll be wrapping him in bubble-wrap," the toad sannin joked. Minato didn't laugh, and Jiraiya's face turned incredulous. "Please tell me you weren't actually thinking of doing that, Minato!"

No, he wasn't... at least not with bubble-wrap—too easy to bypass and too noisy. Rubber, maybe?

His musings were interrupted by Jiraiya's rather bulky hand imparting ancient—painful—wisdom to his skull, followed by a loud groan of exasperation. "Minato, don't overdo it. Your over-protective tendencies are bad enough without you seriously considering dumb—and I mean completely and utterly, without-a-doubt stupid—ideas like that."

Minato huffed, but conceded. He'd have to make do with eight of his elite fighters. He grinned suddenly. "Hey, sensei," he said, "I wonder what they'll do when they hear they've got babysitting duty."

The sannin's amused snort was his only answer.

Naruto paced the length of floor in front of Kyuubi's cage restlessly. His feet made sloshing sounds in the ankle-deep water with every step. He pointedly ignored the great slumbering beast behind the bars.

He'd had so many hopes when he discovered that he was in the past. His heart had warmed and in him awoke an even fiercer resolve to fight. For Jiraiya, for Tsunade, for all his friends–for the future that they may one day have. And he had hoped, fervently, that his mother would be alive this time around. When Naruto saw that the Fourth—his father—had survived the sealing, he'd felt a surge of excitement in his chest. It wouldn't have been such a huge stretch of the imagination for his mother to have also survived.

Kushina… After so many years, he finally knew who his mother was. And yet Naruto would rather have preferred to have never known it. The affection that he had harbored for this woman who had delivered him into the world had all but vanished upon overhearing his father's words to the old man and Ero-sennin. His happy illusion of family had been shattered. He hadn't been sure what to think at first–resounding cries of disbelief lodging in his throat.

Then came anger. Indignation. His mother had abandoned him. Knowing that his father was as good as dead, she had rushed into the arms of war with the certainty of orphaning him, her very own son. After finding out about his parents, however a short time ago that had been, he had dreamed up the idea that Kushina (such a pretty, now meaningless, name) had died nobly—in childbirth, maybe, or perhaps he had been delivered on the battlefield. But abandonment? Even when she possessed full knowledge of what fate would most certainly befall him?

Next it was hurt and betrayal. The knowledge that he would never hear his mother's voice, or smell her hair, or see her smile firsthand. It hurt to know that when it came down to it, his mother, his mother, had chosen to die rather than stay with her child.

After that, after the heartache and the tears he could only shed in front of a merciless demon, after hearing his father's own pain, came apathy. He no longer felt that burning curiosity to know his parents. He knew now, the answer to the question that all orphans kept in their hearts – where did I come from? For the first time in his life, Naruto did not long for a mother, did not feel anger at his parents for leaving him to a life overflowing with closed doors and hate-filled glances. Was it cruel, to feel nothing for the woman who gave birth to him? The woman who left him for blood and misery and death? The mother who he had longed for his whole life?

It was strange, this new feeling. There were still traces of disappointment and hurt, but the aching void, caused by his parents' absence, now filled with the presence of the one person that, when it came down to it, truly mattered. The vacant space in his heart, the one that he had desperately tried to fill with person after person just to make that pain stop—Iruka, Kakashi, Jiraiya, and Tsunade—it was gloriously full, and with only one person.

His father. Energetic and brilliant, and a person who loved Naruto so very much that he could feel it radiate from the man. And to know that your existence made someone happy, to know that someone took joy in the fact that you breathed, that you lived, and be secure in that knowledge…

That was bliss.

The air between the Third and Fourth Hokages was tense. The two, plus little Naruto, were settled in Minato's living room, a tea tray on the low table between them. Minato tried to hide his discomfort at the atmosphere and Naruto's constant wriggling didn't help.

"I—" he started, "I want to apologize." He'd been agonizing over the conversation with Sarutobi a week before. Not being on good terms with the man—which had been entirely his fault; he had avoided his predecessor like the plague—had unsettled him.

Sarutobi raised an enquiring eyebrow. "Whatever for?" he asked.

His successor sighed. "For last week," the blond stated. "I was out of line. I could give you a dozen reasons why I lost my temper, but it doesn't excuse the fact that I was inconsiderate and rude to not just my elder, but my much appreciated and treasured teacher."

The Third smiled genially, elated at the affectionate praise. He had missed the younger man, but had given him space to think—his life had, after all, been turned upside down in a matter of minutes and Sarutobi had simply pushed the right buttons at the wrong time. "I understand, Minato. I accept your apology and also offer one of my own regarding the accusations I laid against you and your son."

Minato shook his head, "Your concerns were valid, Sarutobi-sensei. You had every right to question what happened, to prepare for the worst. I let my feelings for my son—and Kushina—get in the way."

"Nonetheless," Sarutobi said, "I should have been more tactful with my inquiries."

There was silence before both men chuckled. "We sound like old windbags," Minato grinned.

"You sound like an old windbag," Hiruzen rebutted, "whereas I am an old windbag."

"And proud of it, I bet," Minato smirked. He received a haughty nod, followed by a wink. Minato's muscles relaxed and he burrowed into the embrace of the cushioned couch beneath him, glad that he and Hiruzen were on speaking terms once more.

The men spent a length of time talking about their families after their apologies. Minato was, by far, the most enthusiastic of the pair as he described his first experiences in fatherhood. He enlightened Sarutobi to Naruto's astonishing intelligence. He hadn't expected to enjoy caring for a baby as much as he did. Sarutobi was proud to see that Minato had taken to parentage like a fish to water.

Minato's face had eased into an affectionate smile. "He's surprisingly undemanding. I get up at all hours of the night, of course, but he doesn't cry much at all." The Fourth's gaze dropped to his son's face. "He's a happy baby."

Work was, for the moment, put on hold. Minato appreciated the break, short as it would be. He'd been running himself ragged trying to clean up after the Kyuubi attack a week prior. Konoha itself had still been suffering from the Third Great Shinobi War (which had ended a year previous) when the Kyuubi had attacked; the grave deficit in manpower and influx in refugees had hurt the village's economy badly. The further widespread destruction of infrastructure and lives that had resulted from the coming of Kyuubi had put Konoha into a serious bind. Both Jiraiya—whose arrival they were waiting for—and Sarutobi had proven to be invaluable to Konoha's reconstruction.

Sarutobi had taken over the organization of the orphanages and the accompanying adoptions, along with civilian supplies and housing—even after Minato's outburst and subsequent evasion. Jiraiya, on the other hand, had taken an enormous shine to Naruto—a surprise, as the man had never acted like one to take to children so quickly. Minato's old genin team had taken 'field trips' to the hot springs more often than was appropriate and been left to their own devices while their sensei peeked on oblivious female bathers. Jiraiya had watched Naruto while Minato attended meetings and went to places where bringing a child would be improper.

Naruto seemed quite content to be around either of the elder men, and Minato could tell that the boy would have all three males wrapped around his little finger soon, if they weren't already. He had a faint suspicion that the ANBU squads would soon follow, once they spent enough time with the cheerful child.

His musings were interrupted by Jiraiya's entrance. The tall man quickly swiped Naruto from his father's grasp and nestled into an armchair, wrapped protectively around the young boy. "So what's this about?" he asked. His mood was sour—he'd given up valuable research time at the bathing house for this. It was his own break from work; he'd been working on the Ninja Academy's curriculum to arrange for an accelerated program when he wasn't watching Minato's—admittedly adorable—brat.

Minato sighed in resignation. Back to work, it seemed. "It's about the Kyuubi attack," he confessed, "or rather, the person behind it."

Sarutobi and Jiraiya sat up straight at his words, all pretenses of play forgotten.

It'd taken a while for Minato to place the man's face, but he'd eventually come up with a name. The rest was mostly speculation. The fact that there was an authority trying to aid or cause Konoha's destruction (and one powerful enough to utilize the Kyuubi to do it) was reason enough to worry, whether his theories were valid or not.

Hiruzen hesitated only briefly before asking, "What do you mean?" His demeanor was poised. The life of a ninja desensitized one to surprises, but his tone was no less urgent.

"Uchiha Madara," was all Minato said in reply. The name garnered raised eyebrows from the Sandaime—which he expected—and a blank look from Jiraiya—also expected.

"You're not joking." Minato's childhood sensei gawped, disbelieving. "But he's dead! How could he have engineered the Kyuubi attack?"

The Yondaime shook his head. "I'm not sure, but I know what I saw." He wished he could be completely certain, but there was little in the shinobi world that could be taken at face value. Underneath the underneath, as he always said.

"How did you come to this conclusion?" Ever the scholar, Sarutobi gave Minato the push he needed to re-organize his thoughts.

"He was there, that night. I'm not certain why he went unnoticed, though that can be attributed to a genjutsu—it is, after all, within the power of the Sharingan. I only caught sight of him because he abandoned the Kyuubi's head when I approached on Gamabunta." Minato had only glimpsed him, but it had been enough. He hadn't said anything about it because there were more pressing matters beforehand.

He grimaced. "I know it sounds far-fetched, but we all know that it's not impossible. It wouldn't be outrageous to think that Madara could have developed something like an immortality technique. He was powerful enough to challenge the Shodaime decades ago and, on top of that, was capable of controlling the Kyuubi. Either way, we can't do anything—for the moment."

Sarutobi nodded, folding his arms and leaning back into his seat. "You're right. We'll have to keep an eye out for Madara in the future, regardless of how ridiculous your theory sounds."

Jiraiya, after a long silence, finally spoke. His voice reflected the worry on his face. "Minato, if we're talking about Madara and the Kyuubi, then we need to factor in Naruto as well."

The Sandaime nodded, while Minato noticeably stiffened. He was not going to let some senile, power-tripping old fossil with a case of severe pink eye anywhere near his son. Jiraiya, recognizing Minato's abrupt mood swing, sighed. He handed Naruto back to the boy's father in an attempt to cool him off. It worked, thankfully.

"Neither sensei nor I will be speaking to anyone about Naruto's status," Jiraiya assured. "Unless there's an incident, his secret will be safe."

Minato's lips pursed; he was furious that Jiraiya's reasoning hadn't crossed his mind earlier. His eyes lifted to Hiruzen's face when the man cleared his throat.

"Was that the most important issue?"

Minato nodded. It had been for this conversation that he put a web of secrecy seals up over the pre-existing ones.

"Then Jiraiya and I will take our leave. We can discuss other business later." The old man stood, grimacing at his protesting bones. He patted Minato's shoulder; an action mirrored by Jiraiya, and drifted a careful hand over the downy hair on Naruto's head.

"Spend some time with Naruto," he ordered. The elderly man eyed the dark circles under Minato's eyes and shook his head. "Sleep, too. You'll burn yourself out with the amount of rest you're getting, and then you'll be of no use to anyone."

Minato could do little else except nod, accepting Sarutobi's logic. He was exhausted. He bade farewell to both men before retreating to his bedroom, having moved Naruto's crib next to his bed.

He settled the babe in the crib after feeding, burping, and changing him, then dressed himself in a pair of pajama pants and collapsed on his bed with a weary whoosh of air from his lungs. He fell asleep to Naruto's gentle breaths, worriedly anticipating what tomorrow would bring.

Chapter Text

The days passed quickly. It had been more than four months since Minato's explanation about the Kyuubi attack and Uchiha Madara's interference. The man had yet to be seen since. Naruto had grown quickly, and his head was now completely covered by Minato's own untamable, vibrantly blonde hair. The young child had also discovered the joys of baby food, and the perfect way to practice his aim for later shinobi training. When it came to it, food plus Naruto (armed with a spoon) made for a very dirty and very sullen Minato.

The Yondaime often found himself running to Sarutobi for guidance whenever Naruto did something unexpected. The old man was astonishingly patient and answered all of his successor's questions. Minato was positive the man was an angel in disguise.

The Hokage's office had been transformed into, embarrassingly enough, a child's play room—not that it detracted from business. The ninjas under the Hokage understood that just because he allowed a child free reign of his study didn't mean that the man wasn't to be feared. Special privileges were only extended to the bright, sunshine-haired baby.

Jiraiya had taken to buying Naruto a stuffed toy from every city he stopped in—Naruto's room already had a mountain of them—as well as nabbing a diminutive white coat identical to Minato's. And, now that Naruto could sit up unassisted, Minato had taken a leaf out of Jiraiya's book and commissioned a miniature replica of his office chair. The two were regularly found lounging behind Minato's desk.

Despite the Kyuubi attack, Konoha was flourishing. It was a testament to the Leaf's Will of Fire that the village was able to rise up so determinedly in the aftermath of such devastation. Jiraiya's program for the Ninja Academy was churning out rapid results, and after Minato offered a stipend to those families that took in young, parentless children, many orphans were given homes.

Minato was struggling to acclimatize himself to Kushina's absence. They had been married for nearly a year and the twenty-six-year-old missed her desperately. He didn't believe that he would ever be able find another woman like her, a person that he could love with such a strong passion. The only one who could compare was his son, their son.

He was protective, almost possessive, of the boy. As an orphan, he had known nothing of his own ancestry. His name, fabricated by an orphanage in Mist, was a constant reminder that he was found alone, in a leaning, dirt-floored hovel by a deserted seaport during a storm, a reminder that he came from nothing, and, later, built his life from nothing.

He had lived at the Mist orphanage until the Miyato family, which consisted of only a husband and a wife, eventually took him in. Their chosen profession as travelling merchants had caused the loss of their son in a rockslide on a lesser-travelled road. The two devastated parents had taken him from that decrepit, flimsy, molding building, from the Bloody Mist, and brought him into Leaf on one of their many expeditions to fill the hole their son left behind. Just two scant miles from the city, the couple was murdered and looted by renegade nin right in front of his eyes. Minato was left with nothing but the clothes on his back and the ripped satchels strapped to the Miyatos' bloodied and beaten bodies. They had contained the couples' severed heads.

He had been five years old.

It was that experience that cemented Minato's desire to create his own legacy, that of the Namikaze's.

Namikaze Naruto would know his family.

Naruto nearly jumped out of his skin when he found malevolent red eyes glaring at him. He had been trying to figure out why he was only able to get vague impressions of the world around him. When he was awake, it had felt as though a veil was enshrouding his mind. Thoughts and actions came slower, and exhaustion was quick to make itself known; and yet, here, in front of the seal, all was normal again.

"You're awake," he stated, unnecessarily. Kyuubi's glare only grew in intensity. Blackened lips pulled back from massive, sharp teeth.

"Human," it growled.

Naruto, even after living with the beast for his entire life and conversing with it time and time again, was still scared of the fox. Its threats, however, were easily ignored—he had extensive practice. He nodded at the red-furred behemoth. Time to play nice—he wanted to know why his father was still alive.

"Kyuubi," he greeted.

"You want something," it stated. It was smart for a chakra construct, clever enough to deceive Naruto if he wasn't careful. Naruto wondered what it did to gain that knowledge. Probably stole it from those that it devoured. He wouldn't put it past the demon.

"Yes," Naruto agreed. "I want to know why my father is alive. You did something."

If Kyuubi could raise an eyebrow, Naruto was sure that it would. "So quick to place the blame, aren't you, little fleshling? And here I thought you would be grateful."

Naruto gritted his teeth. He was grateful, he honestly was, but if this scenario, this change, meant that he would be indebted to the demon, he wasn't sure what he would do. Naruto shook his head, clearing his thoughts. "I am," he said, locking eyes with the beast. "Grateful, I mean. But you're still sealed even though my father is alive. If he had used that jutsu, he would be dead. So I want to know why. In all the time I've known you, there was always a reason behind your actions."

Kyuubi let out a deep, rumbling purr. A laugh, Naruto guessed. "Bold little human," it sneered. "You may know me, but I do not know you. You had a taint on you—a taint that could only come from prolonged exposure to my presence. You were my vessel. I could tell. But how could have that been if I was to be sealed within you that night?"

Naruto looked away, biting his lip apprehensively. This was interesting; scary, but interesting. So much had changed, and he wasn't ready for it. "I'm not from this time," he ultimately whispered. "I'm from a time where the Yondaime died summoning the God of Death to seal you into me." Naruto's eyes drifted back to Kyuubi's when he continued, "I'm from a time where I fought for my life against those who wanted to steal your power, to use me to get to you. I've used your power before under my own influence, and I've used it under yours as well."

The Kyuubi reared back, its eyes narrowing. "You speak the truth, human?"

Naruto nodded, muscles tensed. Where this could go was anybody's guess.

Kyuubi relaxed, surprising Naruto. "Your body," it said, "was pure at the time of my attack against your puny village. Your chakra, your soul, however, was not. You contained my own power." The great fox lowered its head closer to Naruto's level. Its breath was hot. Naruto imagined he could smell the stench of its countless massacres, the blood of the innocents it had killed. "Even demons, as you humans call us, are subject to the laws of the universe. I was aware of what your sire's technique would summon. Avoiding it was in my best interest."

Naruto grimaced. Of course. He growled internally; Kyuubi's actions would always be in its best interest. Selfish bastard.

Kyuubi grinned at the puny human. "Yes," it hissed, "I did it simply for my own benefit. I am a self-serving creature, after all."

"You still haven't answered my question," Naruto pressed.

Kyuubi roared at the boy, snapping at bars of his prison. Naruto took a step back in alarm, cringing at the shrieks of teeth against metal. "Do not presume to speak to me with such insolence, human child! I stay in this cage because without the interference of the Death God, I will be free after your death!" He snickered at Naruto's paling face. "I used the seal imprinted on your soul to create this prison—it holds me just as the original did, but it lacks the… necessity of my termination after your natural death."

Natural? Naruto voiced his question.

"I am not—this time, according to your previous words—imprisoned under the Equal Exchange of Souls, as your sire still exists in this plane. The duration of a human's life is nothing to me. All I have to do is wait until you grow old. Your life will fade from you, and I will be liberated from this pathetic jail!" Kyuubi snarled at the boy momentarily before calming, taking a sick pleasure in the fear on the child's ugly, hairless face.

"If you are to die by another's hand, or even mine," Kyuubi continued, "the seal will consume me and I will cease to exist. That is a risk I am unwilling to take. Only with your natural death will my spirit be released back into the realm I was formed in; I will be powerless and weak as a newborn kit, but I will have survived."

Minato's mood had gone from good to bad to worse within three hours. He had woken up to sunshine and Naruto's radiant smile, no baby food on his face, and a new generation of graduating shinobi. He'd impressed upon each new sensei the importance of readying their team for the Chuunin Exams or field promotion; in other words, intense training. He had decided to leave it up to the examiner's own discretion to inform him of which students were ready to become genin. The squads were not yet finalized and teams would be structured based on matching those with complementary skills— after they had passed inspection, of course.

There would be no specialized teams (be they infiltration or combat) this year. Each graduating team would receive intensive training from chuunin instead of individual jounin. Time was of the essence and drilling genin would leech too much of it from the high-ranked would-be jounin-senseis who could better be utilized in the field. Konoha was too desperate for shinobi and overrun with missions to risk anything going wrong so each squadron would just have to be able to take whatever was thrown at it.

D-rank missions were being relegated to the Academy—Jiraiya's idea—under the pretense of preparing for future missions. Students would learn to work in teams, write reports, and free up genin and chuunin for higher ranked missions and the pay would, instead, go to Konoha's coffers instead of being divvied up by the team and village.

Minato's mood took its first downturn when a messenger from Konoha's Council entered (invaded) his office. The Yondaime had learned, by necessity and through recurrence, to dread speaking to the nosy civilians—and the even nosier former shinobi. At least the civilians didn't have training in psychology and were, for the most part, happy to go along with whatever he decided.

However, this was one item of business he was not looking forward to. They wanted to know who the baby was, and they wanted to know now.

The blond man had been trying to keep Naruto's status as much of a secret as possible. Rumors were fine, but to confirm the hearsay? It would leak out to his enemies and leave them with no doubt that the Yellow Flash had a son—a very vulnerable son.

He didn't have much of a choice, though. Fact or fiction, assassins and kidnappers would target the baby just for its association with their (potential) adversary. If Naruto was known as his son, as a Namikaze, at least his ninja would be inclined to protect the child more fiercely.

He sent an affirmative answer to the prying bigots—an invitation to meet with him in the council chambers, where he would answer their questions in two days time. He shuddered in anticipation of how the meeting would go.

Minato enjoyed the few blessed minutes of silence that was brought about by the departure of the stuttering courier (whose exit was punctuated by the heavy steel door slamming shut in his wake) before his temper would inevitably be pulled taut once more.

There was a swift knock on the door and Minato flared his chakra in response, the flicker as good as any "enter." His mouth was, for the moment, occupied by a calligraphy brush, the end dripping with ink, and he had no other way to answer the ANBU's request.

His eyebrows rose when he set his eyes upon his former pupil, Hatake Kakashi. "Kakashi-kun," he greeted, spitting out the brush in his mouth and flinging it none-too-gently into the waste basket by his desk. Its bristles were too rigid and broken for any more use anyway.

The silver-haired teen bowed respectfully, tactfully ignoring the Kage's rather comical ink-smudged appearance. "Hokage-sama," he said, "mission completed."

Minato nodded at the mention of Kakashi's assignment to Yuki no Kuni, the Land of the Snow. "And the client?" he enquired, accepting the scroll containing Kakashi's report. It was deposited in a basket on his desk containing other identical scrolls.

"Safe, sir," he answered.

Minato smiled; he was proud of his former student. "Then I congratulate you on completing your first mission as an elite jounin, Kakashi-kun." He beckoned Kakashi closer, "Enough formality for now. You've yet to meet my son, Naruto."

It was Kakashi's turn to raise his eyebrows and his expression lost some of its tension in his surprise. "Son?" he asked. "Kushina-nee-san was pregnant?"

Minato hummed. He and Kushina had agreed to keep her pregnancy a secret until she started showing. "You were gone for a long time, weren't you?" His eyes suddenly turned sad. "Have you heard of the recent events in your absence?"

Kakashi shifted uncomfortably on the chair he had hauled next to Naruto's small cot. He removed his hand from the baby's cheek and gripped his navy pants harshly. "Most of it," he answered, turning to face his sensei. "Where is Kushina-nee-san?" he asked.

Minato looked away, the muscles in his face tightening. It seemed that 'Most of it' didn't cover Kushina's death. Speaking about his wife always seemed to reopen the gaping wound in his heart. Whenever she was mentioned, Minato wanted to hole himself up in his house and hold Naruto until the pain went away, until he forgot about her presence and her smile and the look in her eyes when she fought for her country. He couldn't, however, leave Kakashi in the dark about her death. The teen looked to her as an older sister. He had no doubt that the masked boy would be devastated.

"She died." He forced the words from his throat. Nothing Jiraiya said about continuing the grieving process would help him in this situation. He'd either get over her or he wouldn't.

He didn't think he would.

He glanced over at his student at the sound of wood breaking. Kakashi had cracked the hand-rests of the seat he was perched on. His face was pale. "What?" he asked, his voice hoarse with denial.

Minato stood, abandoning his post at his desk, and knelt before Kakashi, wrapping secure arms around the boy. He sat on the floor, pulling the teen into his lap, and rocked him. "I'm sorry," he choked out, needing this comfort as much as Kakashi did. "I'm sorry."

The jounin clung to him ferociously, shaking with silent sobs. Minato couldn't bring himself to shed anymore tears for Kushina; all his tears were already spent after nights of weeping bitterly into his pillow, heart aching with the loss of her warm presence. He wouldn't deny his student the same luxury. Kakashi was, after all, still a child.

It was nearly half an hour before they were both composed enough to continue speaking. Kakashi hadn't met Minato's eyes since he had received the news. After the teen pulled away, Minato's frown deepened. There was something wrong; something was about happen and he got the feeling that he wouldn't like it.

His fears were confirmed when Kakashi withdrew a single scroll from his pouch and set it on the Yondaime's desk. The blood-red cover mocked Minato, who felt his heart stop at the sight of it. His face blanked of all emotion as he met Kakashi's eyes. "No," he said.

Kakashi's eyes widened. "What?" he asked incredulously. "Why not?"

"No!" the blond snarled, losing any shreds calm he had gathered. His eyes narrowed and became dangerous. He grabbed the scroll and snapped it in two in his anger, throwing the broken halves across the room. "I refuse to let any child throw their life away!"

"But I'm already an elite jounin," Kakashi hissed through his teeth.

"You're still a child, Kakashi! Only fourteen years old!" Minato gripped his desk, ignoring the protesting wood underneath his white-knuckled hands. He clenched his eyes shut. "You lost both Rin and Obito less than a year ago, Kakashi, and now Kushina is dead too. You'll be losing yourself this time. I won't let you do this."

Kakashi looked away, a single hand tracing over the band of metal that covered Obito's eye. "I don't understand, sensei," he whispered. "I don't understand what the problem is. I want to do this."

Minato shook his head and stared at Kakashi's face, eyes burning into the teen like hot coals. They were haunted, afraid. "ANBU is death, Kakashi. It's pain and it's blood. It's darkness. It's lies and deceit, nightmares of murder after murder, mission after mission, day after day of killing your heart and your emotions… Konoha may be the greatest of the five powers, it may be lax concerning its shinobi's mentalities towards such lifestyles, but our ANBU squads are no different from those of any other village.

"You're not strong enough for it, Kakashi. It will break you. It will swallow you whole and spit you out in pieces. Rank is nothing in ANBU. All it is, is survival. If you get in too deep, the only thing that you'll end up living for is your own death."

Minato could not, would not, let that happen. No child would go into ANBU while he was Hokage. Not one.

Chapter Text

Minato leaned against the banister, his weight on his forearms. He breathed in deeply, the crisp early morning air filling his lungs satisfyingly.

Kakashi had come home with him that night. Minato had been unwilling to leave the teen alone so soon, especially after delivering news of Kushina's death. His student was irritated with him, he knew. ANBU was glamorous, desirable. They were the best of the best, the elite of all shinobi: powerful, respected, and feared.

And there-in laid the problem.

It was because Konoha promoted such fierce camaraderie and was so lax on displays of emotion that each potential ANBU trainee received such a shock when they first entered the program. Not many made it past the first few weeks, and if one did survive having their ideals and beliefs shredded to pieces before their very eyes, they went on to commit some of the most grisly acts imaginable.

Kakashi wasn't ready for that. Minato wasn't sure if he ever would be.

The tall blond dropped his head into his hands, taking measured gulps of air to still his thoughts, savoring the ability to truly think. This was the first bit of quiet time that he had had in months—away from the office, from the demands of being Hokage, away from even Naruto.

He had to admit, it was long overdue.

Minato was worried about the council meeting. It was only a day away now, he reflected, as his eyes rose to take in the early morning light. While he wasn't even close to being afraid of the council, he was a private person. That specific trait was something that wasn't always appreciated, even by his supporters, when one was the leader of a village. He could say without hesitation that he'd ruthlessly eliminate anyone that stood in his way, whether it concerned his village or his son.

Naruto was important to him, immensely so, and his little boy's well-being came before Konoha's insatiable lust for gossip or bragging rights.

He sighed and straightened up, grimacing as the muscles in his back protested the movement after being immobile for so long. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, and the sky was a canvas of pink, orange, and purple. He smiled, enjoying the way the colors reflected off Konoha's buildings and the surrounding forests. It was peaceful.

Minato took in that moment of tranquility, stowing away the beauty of those precious seconds of blessed silence, where the sky and the forests and Konoha itself seemed to burn with the Will of Fire.

And then, with a flash of yellow light, he was gone.

Naruto stared at the pipe-lined wall before him, his blue eyes a sharp contrast to the prosaic backdrop. It was grooved, much like the bark of the trees that sheltered his beloved home. Only here, it did not fill him with a sense of comfort or security.

Here, he was alone, exiled from the outside world.

Iruka-sensei had once commented on how children, especially babies, always seemed to grow up so quickly. Naruto was ready to debate that fact.

The teen figured that it was because of his body's infancy that he couldn't interact with the world around him. He, at most, caught snatches of words and small bits of conversation. In the face of the conversation between his father and Jiraiya, he was utterly exhausted afterwards, having used all of his meager energy stores to focus on the words being exchanged between the two men. Not to mention the blinding headache that resulted from his efforts.

The closest comparison that Naruto could make of his mind was to liken it to a sieve, where his thought processes and instincts were filtered into something more primitive once they had passed through. He couldn't remember half of what went on when he was awake and it aggravated him.

Naruto was, by definition, a social person. Long stints of solitude did not sit well with him. The fact that he was, for all intents and purposes, stuck in the seal until his brain was developed enough to contain his consciousness without melting into a steaming pile of gray goo drove him crazy.

On more than one occasion, he had raged and sworn at the walls containing him, only to curl up and sob after he finally ran out of steam. The only thing that kept him going, helped him understand that yes, this was all worth it, worth the solitude and the quiet, the isolation and mind-numbing worry, was the knowledge that, in the end, he was here to help the people he loved.

Of course, the warm, fuzzy feeling that enveloped him whenever his father was near didn't hurt either.

The captain of the first squad of the ANBU's Alpha division was a simple, direct man. He lived for his work. He'd been an ANBU for eight years, and a captain for four. That kind of track record alone earned him great respect among Konoha's best. His silently fierce demeanor and prowling walk had earned him his nickname, Kurohyou—the panther.

He was fiercely loyal to his Hokage. Should the man hand him a flask of poison and ask him to drink it, he would do so without question. He was, without a doubt, the personification of the shinobi profession.

And so, Kurohyou of squad A1 could honestly say that being a missing-nin had never looked like a more attractive choice.

"Sir, please take Naruto-sama for a minute." Kurohyou grimaced as his medic, Hato, handed the squalling baby to him. He received the child awkwardly, his large, calloused hands dwarfing the tiny frame they held.

When Minato-sama had called his squad into his office, Kurohyou had not expected his team's first official assignment after the Kyuubi attack to be babysitting, of all things.

The tall man sighed and brought the naked child closer to his chest as he dutifully followed Hato into the kitchen, where she had previously set up a baby bath, already filled with warm water.

Hato, being the kind and gentle soul she was, had immediately taken to Minato-sama's child, and they got along famously. Sadly, that couldn't be said for the rest of the team.

Taka, his vice-captain, was unnecessarily nervous around the vibrant baby. Kurohyou was a bit confused as to the reasons why—he'd never encountered anything that could make the normally unflappable man flinch and stutter like little Naruto could, other than the man's mother, of course. He kept his amusement to himself, as he had the feeling that the willowy, white-haired man would not appreciate being laughed at.

Not that Kurohyou laughed. Ever.

Ookami, the last member of their little family and the most boisterous, avoided Naruto like the plague. Something about not wanting to be a bad influence on Minato-sama's child because he wanted 'to keep my head on my shoulders, thank you very much!'

All in all, this was the most lively he'd ever seen his team act before, and it was all due to the child who was currently splashing away joyfully under Hato's watchful eye.

His lips twitched into a ghost of a smile. Perhaps this mission wasn't so bad after all.

When Minato finally set foot into the council room the day of the scheduled meeting, it was dead silent. His feet whispered across the floor, each step light and controlled. His face was impassive and his eyes hard. In his arms lay Naruto, asleep and oblivious to the world around him. He'd let Hato and Kakashi dress the child that morning. The two had picked out a simple ensemble of soft, dark green pants and a long sleeved red shirt with matching booties for warmth. Minato had also wrapped the baby in a plain beige blanket. He, himself, had donned his Kage robes for the first time in a while. He'd always hated the thing.

Once he'd taken his seat, the doors were sealed and security seals were engaged. Two guards took up their posts on either side of the reinforced double doors, with additional masked nin spaced evenly around the circular room.

The Hokage's seat was on the highest raised dais, in easy view of the rest of the council. Minato didn't so much as flinch as they eyed him like ravenous vultures. Once he was sure that every eye was on him—an unnecessary precaution since he'd been the center of attention from the moment he'd entered—he spoke. "Ladies and gentlemen," he greeted. His voice was smooth and even, and it echoed around the chamber.

"There is little question as to why we've gathered today. It is in response to the request I received two days ago."

Several heads nodded at the mention. Minato refrained from rolling his eyes. "In light of recent events," he continued, "and due to the increasing amount of rumors circulating Konoha, I've decided to answer the question that you've all been dying to know."

Minato couldn't help the little bit of sarcasm that seeped into his voice. He watched, amused, as some members—namely those from the civilian sector—shifted uncomfortably.

Minato turned Naruto in his arms, gently maneuvering the baby so that his sleeping face was visible to everyone in the room. Several of the women cooed quietly at the adorable child. "This," he said, with no small amount of pride in his voice, "is my son and heir, Namikaze Naruto."

Chaos erupted.

Minato ran a tired hand through his hair and sighed. He gripped the back of his neck, head falling forward limply, and massaged the tense muscles at the base of his skull. The council meeting had gone as uneventfully as he had hoped. After the many well-wishers and their prideful exclamations, the room had settled down, though an undercurrent of excitement still lingered. He had no doubt that he would get several invitations for "play dates" with Naruto in the future.

He'd put an abrupt end to any mention of arranged marriages the second he'd caught wind of them. He smirked, remembering the flinches of several people at his sharp snap. There was no way that he'd let another person decide his son's future—that privilege was reserved for Naruto alone.

The most surprising person had been Danzou. The man had merely given Minato a small nod of congratulation, which was followed by an expression of his great anticipation in seeing the ninja Naruto would grow into. From Minato's experience with the man, he was an intensely devoted, if misguided, patriot. He was thankful that Danzou hadn't seen the need to maneuver himself close to Naruto, not that he'd let the man anyway.

Their home was getting messy. Kushina had been the one to keep it clean, and though Minato was meticulous towards anything concerning his work, he was no housekeeper. He may be cold-hearted and virtually undefeatable on the battle-field, but the grime that was starting to pile up on the kitchen counter-tops won every time.

He sighed again and leaned back into his chair. Hiring ANBU to babysit his son was one thing, but making them clean his house, too? Even he drew the line there. And supervisor or not, he didn't want a batch of star-struck Academy students cleaning his home as a D-rank mission. No, he'd have to think of something else.

It was Kakashi who'd eventually come up with a solution during lunch that day. "Hire a housekeeper," he said over his plate of sashimi. He'd seen the teen eyeing the dishes in the sink as if they were about to attack him. Minato drew a little bit of comfort from the fact that he wasn't the only hopeless one at chores.

Minato chewed slowly, the cogs in his brain beginning to turn. Kakashi's idea had some merit. He'd have to do a background check of course, and an interview, but it was certainly a viable answer to the growing mass of dust bunnies; Minato could swear that they were breeding.

Soon after, when Minato was sorting through numerous job applications in search of the perfect housekeeper, a flustered chuunin burst through the double doors of his office. The brown-haired man was doubled over, heaving for breath.

"H-Hokage-sama," he gasped, "an urgent message from Intelligence."

The Yondaime took the folder smoothly, dismissing the messenger immediately afterward for privacy. He opened it to the first page. A picture with a name scribbled underneath it glared up at him.

His narrowed eyes bore into the unassuming visage with frightening intensity. He clenched his free hand tightly in his anger, snapping the biro it held in half, ink exploding over his fist.

"So that's how you want to play, hmm?"

Later that day, a brown-eyed brunette was escorted into his office. The girl couldn't be more than nineteen. She looked incredibly nervous as she squirmed under Minato's gaze. He took in the way that her eyes darted around the room curiously, pausing for a moment on the crib that housed his son, who was absently fiddling with one of his toys. Instantly, as if sensing someone watching him, Naruto's eyes locked onto the newcomer's with a frightening intensity.

The blond man repressed a smirk at the flinch the unblinking gaze evoked. Five months old and already staring people down—humorous, truly.

He smiled a tad to calm her nerves and broke the thick silence gently, "You applied for a housekeeping position two days ago."

Her eyes widened a bit and she nodded, "Yes, Hokage-sama." Her words were soft and unassuming like the rest of her. At least he knew her voice wouldn't annoy him to death.

"What are your skills?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest. He leaned back into his chair comfortably. The teen opposite him didn't look a fraction as relaxed as he did.

She wrung her hands together. "Well," she said, "I can cook and clean, watch children, shop, and tutor in mathematics, language, and history—the basics. I grew up on a farm with my father, older brother, and two younger siblings." He watched as her eyes started to tear up. The reference must have brought up bad memories. "Our home was destroyed and I'm the only one left, so I came to Konoha to look for work and lodgings."

Minato nodded slightly, shuffling a few papers on his desk before handing a stack to her. A black ballpoint pen rested on top. "Sign these," he said. "You start tomorrow."

She looked up, surprised, before grabbing the proffered pile from his grasp. Her hands brushed against his as she took the papers. She didn't see his eyes narrow at the action. By the time she looked up, finished with filling out and signing the forms in wide, excited motions, his face was occupied by a warm smile. She returned it shakily, obviously glad to have found work so early into her stay, but alarmed that it was the Hokage himself who was her employer.

"Your duties will include cooking the meals, keeping the house presentable, serving refreshments to guests, and buying any needed supplies. You will only be charged with watching Naruto, my son," he nodded to the child in the crib, "when Jiraiya, Sarutobi, Kakashi, or I are absent or unavailable."

After she nodded in acceptance, he continued, going on to explain that she would be given a bedroom with an en-suite bathroom and bi-weekly pay for her services. "A weekly stipend for household provisions will be provided," he said. "Your own meals and hygienic necessities will be supplied out of that allowance, which leaves you free to spend your own earnings in any way you wish. Do not exceed the limit of the allowance; any unused funds will need to be placed back into the envelope they come in.

"You're expected to be up at five-thirty every morning, with a meal ready by six. I'd appreciate it if you took the time to pack a lunch for me as well; it doesn't need to be fancy, just a balanced meal. I'm usually home for dinner at eight at the latest. If I have a late night, I will send you word of it and you are not expected to have a meal prepared for me. You will be welcome to eat with the family unless serious business is taking place, in which case our meal will be taken in my study.

"There will be times when I return to the office after dinner is done. During these times, a guest will be in the house watching Naruto. If one of the three men I mentioned before do show up, do not be alarmed. They are welcome and have free run of the house." He paused briefly.

"You are not, under any circumstances, to enter my study." Minato was sure that she could figure out that he had sensitive documents in there. Should she try to get in… well, he was a seal master. He'd leave her imagination to come up with a suitable punishment. "I will know. Other than that—and my advice to stay away from items that do not belong to you—you will be able to enter every room. You will be released from your duties each night at nine."

He glanced at her. "I hope I'm not overloading you too quickly," he said.

She shook her head, "No, Hokage-sama. I'm confident I can complete all the tasks I've been charged with."

Minato nodded, satisfied. "Okay. On a more serious note, I expect that you will not let anyone I have not specifically approved of inside the house. There are guards watching the property twenty-four hours a day, every day of the week. Little, if anything, escapes them. And I'll tell you now that you won't be able to find them if you go looking.

"In the event that an intruder does slip past the guards, you will be required to initiate a pre-set password, which will change every week. I'll practice with you for a bit so you get the hang of it. Should they answer incorrectly, you will, without hesitation, activate the seal on this wristband by tearing it in half or dropping blood on it. The fabric is very fragile, so tearing it won't be a problem. I will then be notified and will take care of the problem myself." He held his hand out. Trapped between his fingers was a simple ribbon of thin black silk. Whatever seal was on it wasn't visible to the naked eye. She took it nimbly and slipped it around her right wrist.

Minato purposely left out the information that the wristband also acted as a homing device and had a seal for his Hirashin technique built into it, which meant that he could teleport directly to her location. He had one on Naruto at all times as they were inscribed onto his clothing.

The blond leaned forward, practically oozing power as he stared straight into her eyes. The sudden change in atmosphere left her breathless. "I do not play around with my son's safety, miss. I am the Hokage of the Leaf. I have many enemies, and I also have a very defenseless son, who will be targeted before I am simply for the fact that he's unable to fight back. I expect you to stall or protect Naruto with your life. I understand the courage it takes to do so, and I will happily return the favor, but my son's safety comes before all else. I do not fool around when threats are made against him."

"I understand, Hokage-sama, and I'll do my best," she whispered. Her eyes were wide and frightened.

Minato stared at her a bit longer, his assessing gaze taking in every aspect of his new employee. He hummed and leaned back, having deemed her suitably intimidated. He could only hope that his words meant something.

"Good," he said. "Then there's nothing to worry about."

His eyes flicked to the papers briefly before returning to her. "Kizumi Naiko?" he asked. She nodded and a smile appeared on his face. He rose gracefully, and escorted her to the door, holding it open for her exit and returning her deep bow with a nod of his head. "Welcome to Konoha, Naiko-san."

Once the door snapped shut, his face settled into an emotionless mask. His hand twitched slightly and Kurohyou appeared from his position in the corner, unseen in the shadows beside Naruto's crib.

The tall man kneeled beside his commander submissively, waiting for his orders.

"Watch her," the blond man said. "If any harm comes to Naruto when she's around, it will be your head on the line."

"Yes, Hokage-sama."

Naiko, when she arrived the next day, was nice enough not to comment on the initial state of the house. From the ANBU reports he'd received, Minato understood that the woman was a veritable whirlwind—a cleaning machine. He came home from work to a sparkling living room and kitchen, with dinner on the table. After a long day at the office, Minato couldn't be more grateful for Naiko's hard work, though he still waited for a signal from his guards that the food hadn't been tampered with. Luckily, it hadn't been. It'd be a pity if he had to kill her.

He'd have to go to Kakashi for advice more often. The squirt had good ideas.

He introduced Naiko to Naruto that night, and watched as she cooed and fussed over him. After giving another order to the ANBU to watch the woman—especially when she was with his son—he retired to his room, Naruto in hand.

Pity that neither he nor the ANBU caught sight of the devious smirk that erupted over Naiko's features once he departed.

Naiko had proved to be a blessing in disguise. In return for her moderate pay and housing, she cleaned, cooked, shopped, and looked after Naruto when absolutely necessary.

It was Naiko who had planned Naruto's first birthday—a private affair that took place after the remembrance ceremony dedicated to those lives that were lost in the Kyuubi attack. Minato had shot down the idea of having a festival—doing so often prompted people to forget the sacrifices made on those dates. Though Konoha's ability to dig itself out of its rut was admirable, Minato absolutely refused to condone drunken foolery on the day that many of his comrades had perished—on the day his son was made a jinchuuriki.

Jiraiya and Sarutobi had shown up, the latter having brought his family, excluding Asuma, who had left to the capital of Hi no Kuni to join the Daimyo's guard. Minato shook his head at the reminder of the high-strung youth. He'd later found out that after he had given Asuma his permission to leave Konoha, the teen had bolted without so much as a by your leave to his father or older sister.

He sincerely hoped that Asuma found what he was looking for on his journey—and grew out of his peach fuzz while he was at it.

Kakashi, who had also joined in on the festivities and since gotten over the fact that Minato had forbid him from entering the ANBU, was predictably somber as this was also the anniversary of Kushina's death. He had, in a rare display of his age, demanded that his present be opened first, even though the candle on the cake had yet to be lighted.

Naruto had been perfectly delighted at the blunted kunai and shuriken set and immediately began chewing on them.

Sarutobi had gotten Naruto a pipe that could be filled with soap to create bubbles when it was blown on, some clothing, and a joint gift with his daughter of an outdoor tunnel set that Naruto had a blast crawling, and later hiding in.

Jiraiya, as was his custom, had gotten Naruto several new stuffed animals to be added to the already enormous mountain of soft toys in his room, one of which was a giant toad, affectionately named Gamakyo or Kyo-chan. The Sannin member and his student had grinned madly at Naruto's delighted laugh while Sarutobi sniffed importantly, muttering about giant toads and 'their need to compensate' and the superiority of apes. Needless to say, an argument over the summons was sparked and only ended after Naiko emerged from the kitchen bearing a large chocolate cake.

Naruto had gotten exceeding fond of Naiko in the past few months and smiled brightly at her when she presented to him her gift of a collection of story and picture books. As Naruto grabbed at her long hair, forgetting the books in favour of playing with Naiko and babbling nonsense at her all the while, Minato didn't miss the fond smile that stretched across her mouth. He also didn't miss the way her hands shook or the way she wouldn't meet the eyes of anyone else in the room.

After successfully coaching Naruto to blow out the candle (though Naruto ended up staring at Minato as if he was insane more than trying to blow out the candle), the cake was cut, served, and promptly devoured. Minato, who had already used more than three rolls of film, finally settled down enough to relax for a quiet evening.

It was only after the others had left and Kakashi and Naiko were asleep that he gave his own present to Naruto. He unearthed a leather-bound photo album from his study and settled down on the living room couch, cocooned around his son protectively with the album in his lap. He opened it to the first page, ignoring the breath that caught in his chest and the trail of tears falling from his eyes. He caressed the first picture tenderly, before bringing it up to Naruto's eye level.

"See this, Naruto?" he whispered reverently. "This is your mommy. Isn't she pretty?"

The next few months proceeded in much the same way. Naruto got bigger every day, and soon he had said his first word. Minato had gone a bit camera happy after hearing Naruto's utterance of "Da, up!" while reaching for him. He'd forbid the shinobi he'd been in a meeting with from uttering a single word about The Incident.

The image of a manically grinning and dancing Minato would die with them, lest they choose to visit Yamanaka Inoichi and his rather sadistic apprentice Morino Ibiki down in Torture and Interrogation.

Naruto continued to surprise him. His language skills were far above any child his age, and several at least two years his senior. Minato also saw a glint of unnatural intelligence enter the child's eyes sometimes. It worried him.

It was for this reason that he was currently speaking to Hato. "If you're able to, try to get a reading on his brain development. I want to know how or why he's advancing so quickly."

Hato was quick to agree. Minato could tell that her team was relieved to return to their duty as Naruto's guards after three months of active duty to keep their skills sharp. He had been surprised at how well the four of them had taken to babysitting duty, and had sulked internally for a while, lamenting that he wouldn't get to see them squirm. Even Taka had lightened up around Naruto after Minato had given the man an ultimatum: grow some balls or get removed from squad A1.

And so it was, seven months after Naruto's first birthday, that Minato asked one of his most trusted to examine his son.

They were in Naruto's bedroom because the procedure was easier to perform if the subject, in this case an energetic almost-toddler, was asleep.

Minato hid in the shadows, watching Hato handle Naruto unblinkingly. The green glow of her right hand reflected off of Naruto's hair oddly, casting an ominous glow over her masked visage. The Yondaime tensed at Hato's hitched breath of surprise, and didn't relax even after she released the chakra powering her technique. She turned towards him and shifted nervously.

"The results," he ordered. Her body language set him on edge.

"His brain tissue is far more developed than normal," she said. Minato motioned for her to follow him to his study and they left Naruto's room with near silent footsteps. He closed the door after him, shutting off the remaining light in the room, leaving Naruto, who was snuggled up against Kyo-chan, in darkness. It was only after Minato had activated the security seals in his office that he asked her to elaborate.

"I've never seen anything like it," she admitted slowly, carefully. "When children are born, their brains, and therefore mentalities, are not fully developed; the human brain continues to grow until we are well into our twenties. One can usually pinpoint the age of an otherwise healthy subject by analyzing their brain tissue."

Minato nodded slowly. At least she was simplifying the medical mumbo-jumbo for him. "From the readings I got from Naruto, his brain is as developed as that of a five-year-old's. And from what I see of his interactions, his mentality is just as, if not more, advanced. He just lacks the fine motor skills to properly express it. I recommend starting writing lessons soon, as it will give him the muscle control needed for more strenuous activities."

Hato watched worriedly, face hidden by her white mask. Her leader's face was astonishingly pale as he sunk into the chair behind his desk. The man looked as if the world had dropped all of its problems on his shoulders.

"Thank you, Hato," he said. "You're dismissed."

She hesitated for but a second before snapping a salute and disappearing.

Minato's head dropped into his hands, a sob erupting from his throat. Please… please don't let it be Kyuubi, he prayed.

God knows what he'd do if he lost his only child to that monster.

Chapter Text

Naiko liked to think that she was an honest person. She believed in justice—an eye for an eye. So sure was her belief that it led her to Fire Country after her brother's death at Namikaze Minato's hand.

Infiltrating Leaf had been ridiculously easy in the aftermath of the Kyuubi's rampage. She couldn't help the slight sense of satisfaction that rushed through her at the sight of her enemies' devastated faces. They deserved to feel that grief, that loss, just like she had felt the loss of her own family. It was justice.

Naiko was honest with herself about her deep-seated hatred for the man who called himself the Yondaime Hokage. She had taken it upon herself to exact her "fair" payment, owed to her in the wake of Kizumi Keito's demise. The proud Iwa jounin had been reduced to a shivering mass of bleeding flesh; his dying words would forever be etched into her memory.

She had left after sparing Keito his suffering, disappearing after the battle that the Konoha no Kiiroi Senko had single-handedly ended the war with. Naiko was positive that her comrades thought her dead. Her entire platoon had, after all, been eradicated in less than five minutes.

She still shivered when she recalled the ice-cold gaze of the white-cloaked devil that had swept through her forces, signaled only by a flash of yellow light and a falling body. His very presence brought his enemies to their knees in surrender, pride forgotten in the wake of all-consuming terror and their need of self-preservation. It was only by luck, by chance, that she had been able to escape death that day.

She swore on her pride as a Kizumi that she would secure her retribution. Kizumi Naiko would eradicate the thing that Namikaze Minato held most dear, just like he had done to her.

His son.

She had taken to watching the child obsessively over the last few months. It was a credit to her skills of deception that Namikaze hadn't noticed the way she eyed his son. The first time she had laid eyes on the baby, she had withheld a cringe. He resembled so closely the man she despised. Somehow, that knowledge did not make planning the child's death any easier.

She was a ninja, an assassin, a warrior who killed their heart—she had no honor, no code to follow, nothing holding her but the loyalty to her family and country instilled in her at birth. Killing a defenseless babe should be easy—after all, she had done it before. Why then, did her resolve falter the moment she looked into the eyes of Namikaze's Kami-forsaken spawn?

Naiko glared hard at the wooden flooring she sat upon, hands folded neatly in her lap. Naruto himself was situated not even two feet away from her, enclosed in a mass of stuffed toys. She didn't understand why he treated each one with such reverence, like they were so precious to him that he couldn't bear to see them wrecked.

At less than a year of age, Namikaze Naruto was already an enigma.

She could sense the ninja hidden within the room. Their skill in genjutsu was lacking compared to her own. Her eyes flickered to the boy on her right, taking in the longing, the happiness, as he gazed at the toys surrounding him—two so different emotions that the combination was boggling. What in the world was wrong with this child? What had happened to make him look like that?

It would only take a second. The eager, silky voice of her vengeance slithered through her mind, its entire being intent upon punishing Namikaze Minato. They wouldn't be able to do anything; by the time they kill you, you'll have finished your mission.

Shaking hands reached out to grasp the fragile neck before her. It would be so easy to break it, so easy to achieve the retribution she so dearly wanted.

Her chest tightened at the same time as her fingers, the deceptively strong digits digging—sinking—twisting. Her breathing quickened, pupils dilating as she squeezed. Yes, yes, yes, the voice chanted, airy and breathless in its ecstasy.

Her trance was broken when her eyes met those of Naruto's, that contradictory smile blooming across his features—sad or happy? Maybe it was both. She could never tell. It was on his face for but a second before a grin emerged, and he beamed at her with the intensity of the sun. "Thanks, Naiko-nee-chan!" He took the stuffed animal—a bird—from her grasp as she blinked at him in confusion, in guilt, and, even though she tried to deny it, in happiness at his affectionate address.

She finally looked away from the child, ashamed at her weakness. What kind of ninja was she that she couldn't even kill the son of her enemy? The lingering feeling of her betrayal still gripped her heart even as she tried to push it away. She wasn't even sure who she felt she was betraying anymore.

Naiko's lips quivered. By the gods, what is wrong with me?

Minato had been on edge for the past week. An attempt to kill or kidnap Naruto had yet to happen, and that worried him. Such silence from his opponents had never meant anything good; it only meant that whatever was coming would be big.

He'd had to leave Naruto with Naiko-san and Kurohyou's team that night, something that caused the butterflies in his stomach—they always appeared when he had to leave Naruto in another's hands—to fly faster in agitation. His worry was palpable, and the ANBU guards in his office shifted, uneasy with the tense atmosphere.

Only an hour later, Minato felt a tug on his chakra that told him Naiko-san's wristband had been activated. Pausing only to remove a kunai from his weapons pouch and to dispatch several squads of shinobi, he vanished in a flash of yellow light, his expression morphing into a mask of cold fury.

Whoever dared to threaten his son would pay.

The night was a calm one. Kizumi Naiko hummed quietly to herself as she washed the few dishes left from dinner. It would be time for Naruto to retire soon. She couldn't let the toddler get into the habit of staying up late, even if he took a nap every afternoon.

She was just drying her hands when a knock sounded on the front door. She passed Naruto, who was sprawled out in the living room practicing his handwriting with an intense look of concentration on his face. His small pink tongue peeked out between his lips. She smiled when she caught his eye, her expression widening inadvertently when he returned it with a beaming grin of his own.

He was such a sweet child.

Kakashi was probably at the door, here to watch Naruto until his father came home. Her theory was confirmed when she opened the door, her customary smile still in place.

"Kakashi-san," she greeted, initiating the first step of the password. This week it was a sentence that contained a mention of each person's signature technique—in Kakashi's case, Raikiri—and a mention of his teacher, 'Minato-sensei.'

She hadn't expected such simple passwords, but they were something that any intruder wouldn't be able pick up on.

Her smile faded, though, when Kakashi didn't answer. He merely stared at her, standing stock still, a pained look of surprise on his face. His eyes—or rather, eye—hadn't moved away from her features since the moment she'd opened the door. Naiko shifted nervously. Though she was not on very familiar terms with the Yondaime's student, he was around often enough that she knew such behavior was out of character for him.

Her breath hitched slightly, the situation revealing itself. She shifted her weight again. "Kakashi-san?" she asked. "Are you alright?"

The teen in front of her took a shuddering breath. "Nai-chan?" he whispered, disbelieving.

Naiko froze, icy tendrils of fear creeping up her spine. Only one person had ever called her that. "Shiba-kun?" she stuttered. Why was he here? Why did he look like Kakashi-san?

The Kakashi impersonator grinned and nodded—an expression that had never been directed at her by the particularly aloof boy who Shiba was masquerading as—before looking at her questioningly. "Nai-chan, what are you doing here? We all thought you were dead!"

Naiko bit her lip. She knew exactly who "we" were. She glanced back into the house where Naruto was still practicing his writing. "What are you doing here, Shiba?" she rebutted, ignoring his enquiry.

Fake-Kakashi shrugged, "You should know, of course!"

Naiko worried her lip some more. That was the problem, she did know. Not good, not good, she chanted to herself. She had to get rid of him!

Her plans were ruined by Naruto's voice. "Naiko-nee-chan!" he cheerfully called. He stumbled up to her, his short legs still too awkward to run. She felt a moment's pride in the fact that he was walking and talking so early on, before it was replaced with utter terror at the look on Fake-Kakashi's face.

She had never seen such a look of absolute hatred before, and it was all directed at little Naruto, who was holding onto her pant leg innocently. The child had frozen at the feeling of loathing that leaked from his Kakashi-nii.

"What," Shiba-Kakashi gritted out, "are you doing with him?" A look of incredulity was turned onto her.

Her breath felt like it was frozen in her throat. "I—" she stuttered. "I work here."

Understanding dawned on Fake-Kakashi's features before a smile—a demented, twisted smile that seemed to freeze the blood in her veins—bloomed on his lips. "So you're here for him, too? Good job, Nai-chan! You got in quicker than the rest of us did!" he exclaimed. "You can come home with us, of course. Grab the brat and let's go. The others are waiting."

Naiko tensed again. "Others?" she stammered.

Shiba nodded, the silver hair of his disguise flopping forward with the motion. He looked far too comfortable in his costume, at his task—a trained liar. "Yeah, there's eight of us, including me; nine now, since you're here. You can never be too careful with it comes to the Yellow Flash, huh?"

She tried to think through the shock, but her brain felt like it had turned to sludge. Her eyes darted to Naruto's face and she flinched at the look of total betrayal. Naiko watched as he backed away slowly, small hands up as if to ward off attacks.

"Grab him!" Shiba hissed, eyeing the boy hungrily. She doubted that he even wanted to touch Naruto, for all his talk of taking vengeance; he probably thought the boy was contaminated by his bastard father. Naiko had thought that too, at one point, but now that was long past. "We've got to go!"

Naiko glanced at Shiba-Kakashi. "Where are the others?"

"We're meeting in a clearing just outside of Konoha's walls. I'll lead you there. Stay hidden."

Naiko took a deep breath, her resolve hardening. She scooped up a squirming Naruto, hand placed firmly over his mouth to muffle his high-pitched screams and wails, and nodded to Shiba, who then turned and started down the path that led to the cobbled street. His strides were unhurried, smug.

Naiko turned her mouth to Naruto's ear, making sure he couldn't see her eyes, couldn't see the lies she lived under. "Please, Naruto-chan," she whispered urgently, "trust me. I need you to trust me."

Naruto seemed to debate with himself for a minute before ceasing his struggles. She released a sigh of relief. "I need you to act like you're unconscious," she told him.

With those words, she slung the suddenly limp toddler over her back and ran through a string of hand seals. A strong genjutsu cloaked the pair from sight and she set off after Fake Kakashi, her eyes burning with determination.

It was time for her to complete her promise, to finish the job she had set out to do, regardless of the consequences.

At the end of the night, blood would be spilled.

They arrived in the clearing almost five minutes later. Seven other figures dropped down from the treetops.

"What's going on, Hayashi?" One of the shorter ones addressed Shiba with obvious contempt. "Where's the kid?"

Naiko, still hidden under the genjutsu, backed up. Her footfalls were silent as she skulked away from the clearing, avoiding brittle leaves and only stepping on cushioned patches of mossy ground. She stowed Naruto into the gap between a tree's roots, motioning for him to stay put and stay quiet. She was momentarily stunned at the serious gaze he pinned her with. I know your secrets, it seemed to say. She felt naked and ashamed all at once. She didn't have to ask again as he answered her silent request with a nod, which, upon receiving, she placed another genjutsu over him to hide him from prying eyes.

No one would take her prize.

"I ran into someone," she heard Shiba say as she crept back to her former place at his side. The man had dropped his henge, revealing his sharp features and blood-red hair. She swallowed at the sight of his headband. The symbol engraved on it held so many memories for her—most of them bad. "Someone we all thought was dead," he continued. "She helped me grab the target—from the inside."

Several eyebrows rose at his words. Someone on their side was close to the Hokage? Close enough to be in contact with his son?

"Nai-chan, you can come out," Shiba sang.

She repressed the shudder his voice evoked and dropped the illusion hiding her from their senses, stepping out into the moonlight. There were indrawn breaths from many of the nin present at the sight of her familiar features and the small figure on her back. She hoped no one could see that it was merely a modified bunshin.

She couldn't believe that Shiba would expect her to give up her vengeance simply because they were former comrades.

"Kizumi? Kizumi Naiko? But you were killed in the Battle of Akatsuno Pass!" one of them cried.

Naiko shook her head. "No, I was able to get away. As you can see," she motioned to the child on her back, "I was able to infiltrate Konoha and get close to the heir of their Yondaime."

One of them laughed, stepping forward to draw her into a hug. "I'm so proud of you, Naiko! You always were one of the best—"

The words were cut off with a gurgle. Naiko watched, saddened, as her former genin teammate gave a sputtering cough and looked at her disbelievingly. The rest of the ninja tensed.

"I'm sorry, Chou," she whispered, steadily holding the kunai buried in Chou's soft belly.

Chou's features hardened even as blood dripped from her belly in a beat similar to the wings of her namesake. "Traitor," she whispered on her last breath. Blood specked against Naiko's cheek.

"Shiba, you idiot! She's gone native!"

Naiko didn't allow them to say anything more before she attacked, two kunai appearing in her hands. She used their surprise against them, cutting down another nin with a deep slash to his jugular. Blood spurted from the wound in a fountain of red, staining the grass below her feet.

Two down, she whispered to herself. None of the others would be that easy.

She leapt at another target, slashing and cutting like a woman possessed. Most of her attacks were evaded, the nin smart enough to dodge instead of block. She had to dodge to the side as a second opponent came from behind with a chakra-enhanced kick towards her head. A one hit kill.

"Traitor!" The word sounded again, tearing through her. She suppressed a sob as she killed another one of her former comrades.

Naiko grunted as a shuriken impacted with her right thigh, embedding itself into the muscle. It only took her a second to pull it free and send it back to its source, the throw punctuated with the sound of metal on metal as it was blocked by another.

She would stand no chance against six opponents using only taijutsu. Her fingers sped through another chain of hand seals while she dodged several kunai, gyrating her hips only the slightest amount so she wouldn't get hit. She had to save energy. She flung herself forward again, keeping hold of her jutsu, and gritted her teeth against the pain in her leg as she avoided two fists from opposite directions.

Her technique completed, Naiko sunk into the ground, leaving not one blade of grass disturbed, only for her hands to reappear a second later, her kunai severing the Achilles tendons of one dark-haired nin. The man dropped to the ground with a scream of pain before he was silenced as Naiko dug the same blood-slicked kunai into his throat.

Three down.

"Stay off the ground! Draw her out! She can't stay under there forever!"

They were right. She had near perfect control of her chakra, but small stores. The Doton: Tsuchigakure no Jutsu was chakra intensive even though it was her best technique. Without anyone on the ground, though, it was useless and she couldn't afford to waste precious energy.

She emerged from the earth smoothly, squatting in the shadow of a tree, and released the chakra of the jutsu. She suppressed a sigh of relief as her energy returned.

Naiko had long abandoned the white clothes she'd been wearing earlier, exposing the shinobi issue garb she had on underneath.

She flicked another kunai as her eyes picked up movement in the foliage. A rookie mistake. The knife sliced through the air cleanly, and found purchase in the base of the idiot nin's skull, killing him instantly.

Four down.

She ignored the dull thump of the body hitting the ground in favor of checking on the tree she'd hidden Naruto in.

No! Her eyes widened when she caught sight of Shiba's distinctive silhouette. He was creeping towards Naruto's hiding spot. The red-head was the most chakra-sensitive of the group, and had likely sensed the chakra in the illusion shrouding Naruto.

No! Her mind screamed again. There was no doubt that Shiba would kill Naruto, just to punish her and his father. Revenge. Kami, had that been her? So obsessed?

Without thinking, she took off at a dead sprint, feeding chakra into her muscles so quickly that they strained and snapped. She leapt the last few feet, colliding with Shiba and impaling herself onto his unsheathed sword. She glared at him, blood leaking from between her lips.

"You won't touch him," she hissed, before coughing. Shiba returned her acidic stare, a glint of madness in his eyes.

He spat on her face. "He'll die," he sneered, digging the sword further into her gut. She all but squealed in pain, white light exploding before her eyes. "And so will you!"

Naiko reached up to clamp her hands around his neck, intent on taking the bastard with her, when her eyes alighted on the black band fastened to her wrist. Amazingly, it was free of blood and dirt. She smiled with vindictive glee and ripped the fragile fabric in half, activating it, and gave a bloody grin to the man in front of her.

"Here comes daddy!" she laughed.

A rage-filled roar echoed around the clearing and yellow light engulfed everything.

Naiko succumbed to the warm arms of darkness.

Naiko's eyes fluttered and her breathing quickened. She groaned at the harsh light that penetrated her eyelids. Coughing, she winced at the pain shooting through her torso, reminding her of the wound she had so carelessly inflicted upon herself. That, she reflected, had been one of her more stupid actions.

She had forgotten about the emergency seal in the heat of battle; her only thought had been to keep the enemy nin away from Naruto.

She took a few more breaths before she opened her eyes fully.

White greeted her. A hospital, then. That was better than she expected. Naiko hadn't planned to wake up at all.

A throat was cleared somewhere to her left and she turned her head to face her visitor. She flinched when her gaze met the icy visage of the Yondaime Hokage. She averted her eyes, locking onto the child in the man's arms and subconsciously scanning for injuries.

Naiko's eyes closed momentarily in relief. Naruto was okay. He was safe.

"I believe you have some explaining to do, Kizumi-san." His voice was as cold as his eyes. He didn't show the confusion that welled in him at the look of liberation on Naiko's face when she had looked at Naruto.

Naiko flinched again at the sound of Namikaze Minato's barely controlled fury. The man was beyond angry, and rightfully so. She wondered what this meant for her.

"I—" she croaked, throat dry. She decided that beating around the bush would not be in her best interest when she had an irritated and very powerful father out for her bones. "I'm a former jounin of Iwagakure, Hokage-sama. Kizumi Naiko is my actual name. I disappeared after the Battle of Akatsuno Pass, barely escaping with my life." She turned tired brown eyes to meet his, only to stop and focus on a point just beyond his shoulder.

"I infiltrated Konoha under false pretenses in the hope of getting close enough to your son to kill him. I am—I was—one of your enemies," she said, referring to the words he used when he first hired her. Minato showed no reaction.

"I wanted you to suffer the same pain I felt when you as good as killed my brother." She began to sob, and pain ricocheted off the nerves in her body as she quaked in sorrow. "I had to be the one to release him from his torment! I had to end his life so he wouldn't continue to endure the agony you doled upon him! I wanted you to feel the same pain I felt when I lost my brother. N-Naruto was the only one I stood a chance against."

She looked away again, tears welling in her eyes at the memory of her brother, Keita, and his broken and bloody form. His last words had not been pleas for retribution, but a sentence that shook the foundation of her entire world: Don't blame them, we were wrong. I love you. "I hated you," she whispered, "so much. My brother was the only thing I had left. The war took everything from me! I wanted revenge." Another whimper was wrenched from her throat.

Minato watched her cry unsympathetically.

"You gave me the perfect opportunity to get close," she said. "I thought it would be so easy, that you were so stupid as to let me into your home, close to your son. So easy to get rid of a single, defenseless baby and break you in the process…"

She trailed off, closing her eyes tiredly. More tears leaked from them, trailing lazily down her cheeks.

"And then I met Naruto." Minato's eyes snapped up at her words, resting on her face. "I started spending time with him. At first, I hated him just as much as I did you—he was only another threat, another embodiment of my pain and suffering… but I couldn't kill him. In the end, I couldn't do it. I was weak.

"On his birthday—all it would have taken was a slow acting poison and everyone in the house would have died. I didn't care if I lived, I just wanted revenge. But, when the time came, the poison didn't even cross my mind." Her lips quivered.

"All I thought about while I was making the cake was how happy Naruto would be to have cake on his first birthday."

Minato watched the woman struggle into a sitting position, propped up against several pillows. Her fingers traced invisible patterns into the sheets.

"I was ashamed that I'd forgotten—that I had ignored the chance for revenge I had worked so hard to achieve—all for one child. A shinobi is never supposed to forget—" Her words were cut off as she trembled so violently that it rocked the bed.

"I grew to love him," she whispered. "When he smiled or laughed, or when he hugged me, my heart didn't hurt anymore. On the days I played with him or taught him, I didn't have nightmares about the war." Her hands clenched in the fabric beneath them.

"Iwa—they used the women to gather information." She turned her face from him, shamed, "In any way possible."

Minato's free hand closed into a fist at her words. Even he, who was normally unflappable, was repulsed at her words. That Iwa went so far—to turn their kunoichi into prostitutes—appalled him.

"I always thought I'd do anything for Iwa—because I loved it, because it was my home… but I was only looking for an excuse to run, when it came down to it. I wanted someone to suffer for the pain I felt, and you were the easiest target to blame, and the hardest to get to. I could hate you without being able to do anything. But then I applied for that job and it turned out you were the employer…"

Her eyes were dry now, but still red-rimmed and puffy. "I got attached—to Naruto, to Konoha, and even to you, my enemy. I loved the peace, the people. It's nothing like Iwa, and that might have been what I loved the most. I heard you, that night, when you were talking to Naruto about the war with Iwa. I heard you tell him how you don't regret the lives that were taken because they were needed to end a pointless power struggle, but you hated having to be the one to take the light from men's eyes… I respected you, after that.

"And then," she said, "that night, it came back to haunt me."

She looked Minato in the eyes for the first time since she'd awoken. "I knew them. I'd fought with them. I'd grown up with them. I killed for them during the war, and then I killed them because the thought of leaving Naruto in their hands made me sick. You might know how horrible shinobi life may be, sir, but that would be nothing compared to what they'd put Naruto though, all in your name. Nothing."

It was Minato, this time, who turned away from her, unable to meet her gaze, which was so haunted with personal demons and memories that a shiver stole down his spine. He buried his face into Naruto's soft hair, inhaling the familiar scent of his son.

Naiko watched the scene longingly.

"I remember saying that if you protected Naruto with your life, I'd return the favor."

Naiko's eyes snapped to his, her face betraying her shock. Minato let a small smile emerge.

"I knew who you were before you stepped foot into my office, Kizumi-san. In fact, that's why I hired you—keep your friends close and your enemies closer and all that." He waved a hand dismissively, "I'm a man of my word. Considering what you've done to protect my son, I'd be a fool to let you go."

He reached out to grab her hand. "Your hands have the calluses of a warrior, not a farmer," he said. "You had a perfect opportunity to return to your home country, to be rewarded for your capture of my son, and yet you chose to put your life on the line to protect him, your enemy."

Minato understood that following the intruders to the meeting place had been Naiko's only chance to confront the entire party head on without wondering if any stragglers were waiting in the wings to snatch Naruto the moment her guard was down.

"Did… did any survive, sir?"

Minato nodded. "You killed half the party. I, myself, disposed of one man before securing the nice fellow whose sword you were impaled on—Shiba, I believe. Interesting guy, a bit whiney, but interesting." Naiko grinned faintly at Minato's lame attempt at humor, appreciating the effort. Shiba was a squealer when it came down to it.

"My ANBU," he continued, "tracked down and captured the remaining two, who had fled when you engaged their comrades. Naruto was kind enough to provide us with a rather detailed description of your actions, though he never explained why he didn't engage his own security seal."

Naiko stared at the sleeping toddler, dumbfounded. Had he known that she'd been on his side the entire time?

Minato, meanwhile, reached into the pocket of his famous white and red cloak and removed a headband, setting it on the bed in front of its occupant.

"I want to thank you," he said. "You are welcome to join Konoha's military at any time."

Naiko ran shaking fingers across the smooth metal and navy cloth of the hitai-ate, before tracing the stylized leaf engraved into the shining steel.

"I—" She paused. "Sir, I appreciate the offer, but…" Naiko bit her lip, something that was quickly becoming a nervous habit. "I'd like to remain as your housekeeper, if at all possible. I know it's odd for a shinobi to do a job like that and if you don't want—"

Minato cut her off, a sly smile on his face. "I was hoping that you'd say that," he said, winking. "Kami knows that I can't do squat around the house for all my skills in politics. I'm sure Naruto will be happy to have his Naiko-nee-chan back, too. He's been inconsolable."

Naiko smiled beatifically.

Naruto, nestled in his father's arms with his face buried in the man's shoulder, cracked his eyes open, a smirk coming to his face. Success, he grinned.

Chapter Text

It was a little known fact that Fugaku, head of the mighty Uchiha clan, bearers of the coveted Sharingan, loved his family. In spite of the impassive, controlled façade he presented to the public, he was simply a man stuck between a rock and a hard place. His position as clan head did not allow him to coddle his sons, his family, or even his village—the Uchiha were, after all, known for their indifference, for their glacial eyes and matching hearts.

He had grown up much like his son, Itachi—pushed to his limits, used, expected to complete the impossible—and here he was, doing the exact same thing he had promised not to do, becoming a person he hated, forcing the same childhood upon Itachi. He was a weak-willed man—weak to his clan, weak to his emotions, weak to the self-hatred that permeated his entire being.

Fugaku felt as if he was stretched thin, pulled taut between the controlling clan elders and the ever fluctuating attitude of the community, caught amid his loyalty to his clan and duty to his village.

The Uchiha clan was suffering; rotting from the inside out like the core of a dead tree (an altogether fitting analogy, considering the clan's dwellings) and he could do little more but watch and endeavor to stall the infection. The dark-haired man had heard the whispers, the accusations that his clan had something to do with the Kyuubi attack, a theory spurned on by the story of Uchiha Madara's famous fight with the Shodaime Hokage, the fight that took the First's life.

He was grateful for the effort put forth by the Yondaime, whose determined denial of the Uchiha clan's involvement on the opposing side of the attack had actually began to sway public opinion.

Had the tales not been choked off at the source, he would have had no choice but to support his clan to whatever end they chose.

Fugaku didn't want his family, his clan, to grow bitter, to hate the village their ancestors had worked so hard to build, to see all that sacrifice squandered in a preposterous pursuit of power. He would, eventually, have to turn to the Kage and educate him about the Uchiha, about their rise to power, and their subsequent downfall—a downfall that was, even now, spreading to the newest generation, poisoning their beliefs and loyalties. He could not allow it; he could not allow his clan to descend into chaos, and he would be damned before he let his bloodline, his family—his innocent sons—be infected by the virus that was consuming the rest of his forsaken clan.

He turned to watch Itachi, his overwhelmingly talented firstborn, bend and twist through katas with beautiful finesse, before turning his dark eyes to his youngest, Sasuke, the charmingly cheerful toddler who was born but scant months before the attack that disgraced his clan. And all the while, he wondered—wondered about what Namikaze Minato had to gain by defending his family, what the man knew that he didn't, wondered what the Uchiha would choose to do, and wondered if his family would be able survive the ensuing battle.

Jiraiya had been furious when he discovered Naruto's attempted kidnapping and Naiko's former status as a renegade Iwa-nin, and had returned to Konoha immediately to confront him, storming through the gates in a torrent of rage. The man had pitched a fit about Minato's decision to keep her close, telling him that he had put his godson in unnecessary danger by doing so, regardless of—and maybe because of—the fact that he knew just who Naiko was beforehand. Who in their right mind, the sannin had shouted, puts a revenge-driven ninja in their own home with their selected target and only a single ANBU unit in the immediate vicinity?

Minato, although chastised by his sensei's statement, stood by his decision. The Yondaime knew and trusted in the skills of Kurohyou's team; he had served alongside the four in the last war—fought with them, killed with them, cried with them. They were dear friends and trusted confidants and there was no better team to look after Naruto.

He was still wary around Naiko. Her quick switch of loyalties, while convenient, did not immediately endear her to him. Though he held confidence in her ability to keep Naruto safe, she was still under constant surveillance. Minato doubted she would try anything that would bring harm to his heir, physical or otherwise—no one could fake the devotion he saw in her eyes when she looked at the toddler; it was evident that Naruto had become her entire world. The advantage of keeping her around was that she was a powerful, seasoned jounin who would do anything to ensure Naruto's security, even if it meant attacking Minato himself.

The entire situation had been like a giant chessboard. He had known from the start that the woman wouldn't be able to reach her goal; her revenge was shaky and she lacked the will, the strength and resolve, to go through with it—especially after she got attached to Naruto. All he'd had to do was sit back and let the game play out.

The Yondaime felt guilty that he was using Naiko's weaknesses against her but he tried not to contemplate it; as a Kage, he had to do a lot of things he hated, all in the name of bettering his village. This wouldn't be the first time he had manipulated someone, nor would it be the last.

His thoughts on Naiko led him to Iwa; Minato wondered how Ōnoki, the Tsuchikage, would react to discovering that eight of his high-profile jounin never returned from their mission. With any luck, their absence would serve as a wake-up call to the elderly, intolerant codger. Minato had no doubt that had Naruto been taken, every resource the Leaf village had in their possession would have been focused upon bringing back his son—and this time, Iwa would have perished from the backlash.

After she was released from the hospital, he had ensured that Naiko would forgo the civilian clothing she had worn to keep her cover by giving her Konoha's standardized shinobi outfit. The navy blue jumpsuit was familiar enough that people recognized her status as a trained ninja, while the absence of the green chuunin flak jacket and headband allowed her to blend into crowds. Kakashi, after throwing his own tantrum, had commented exasperatedly that Minato was the only one who would be able to turn a revenge-driven ninja into a happy and dedicated housekeeper.

Minato had to correct Kakashi's statement with the fact that it was Naruto, and not him, who'd done the impossible. Sarutobi had merely looked at the pair that Naiko and Naruto made during one of his many visits and shook his head, wisely deciding not to comment.

Minato had been kept busy with peace talks between Kumo and Konoha. The Raikage was young, brash, and hot-headed; all traits that bespoke of nothing good for the future of his country. His attitude became obvious to Minato though the discreet correspondence exchanged between the two Kages—such a personality wasn't something that could be entirely edited out by the man's scribes. Though the treaty that could result from those consultations was still a ways off, conflict was put on hold for the moment, especially with the upcoming Chuunin Exams that were being held in Kaminari no Kuni's mountainous territory.

Konoha was regaining its power slowly but surely, once again cementing its position as the strongest shinobi village. Though fear of attack still permeated the people of the village, the Leaf's shinobi forces were recovering quickly. The new system—which allocated simple, menial jobs like D-ranks and provided fresh graduates with multiple chuunin mentors (as there were three times as many chuunin, most at the same level as their superiors, than jounin in Konoha) instead of jounin-sensei—could have easily ended in utter disaster in the wrong hands.

It had been a daring move on his part; having jounin take on new recruits was a tradition, a significant one, but it was also a waste of village resources. By freeing up the jounin that would have been removed from active duty to teach pre-teens and instead putting the less-demanded chuunin in their places, genin received training from multiple individuals—training that allowed them to exploit their strengths while also covering their weaknesses—and were often taken aside for one-on-one instruction. Konoha, on the other hand, was open to complete more high-ranked missions without suffering a shortage in manpower. It had been a complete success, bringing a sense of security to civilians and their ninja protectors.

The outburst of gossip surrounding the Uchiha clan's involvement in the Kyuubi attack wasn't something that Minato had anticipated. He knew of Uchiha Madara's part behind the attack—a lucky happenstance on his part; had Madara's mask, an orange and black monstrosity, not been cracked in the ensuing battle, he would have been left in the dark.

Minato seriously doubted that the rest of the clan had anything to do with the Kyuubi's destructive charge—that responsibility lay solely with their wayward ancestor. There was no way he would release information concerning Madara to the public, however, as they would simply eat it up and twist his words to suit their needs, further isolating one of Konoha's founding families. Although it wouldn't stop him from investigating the accusations, he couldn't afford to have that happen; the Uchiha clan made up a massive part of Konoha's military. He refused to pamper or offer the clan special treatment, but it was his duty to keep them from withdrawing their services and potentially revolting in a misguided attempt at gaining control.

Minato didn't have a very high opinion of any Sharingan wielder, Kakashi excluded, since the majority of them had the nasty habit of filching techniques from allies as well as enemies, but he still respected the Uchiha clan's support of the village, even if they had unusually hefty sticks up their asses.

It was because of that respect that he did his best to quell the rumors surrounding the Kyuubi rampage, even going as far as to make up a lie about the authority behind it—that there was none. He didn't want people to get it into their heads that Konoha needed to attack their newly invented adversary before they came back to finish the destruction of the Leaf. In the end, he simply implied that the destruction was the result of the consuming rage and caustic power of the Kyuubi, and that the Leaf was the closest outlet to that anger. Luckily, because of his "defeat" of the beast, they were inclined to believe him.

He hated to lie to his people, but it couldn't be denied that he and his village's status had been given a tremendous boost by the fact that people saw him as the Kyuubi's conqueror. Fear was both a powerful motivator and a powerful inhibitor—it was all politics, and Minato, as the Yondaime Hokage, was in the middle of it.

Thinking back on it, he should have blamed Orochimaru, just for an excuse to go after the slimy bastard.

Naruto looked out over the village he had come to adore, the village that had oppressed him, ignored him, and then celebrated him. The buildings, tall wood and stucco structures surrounded by lush, fertile greenery; the people, cheerful as they gossiped to their neighbors and went about their business; the shinobi, fiercely protective of their village—he loved it, all of it, down to the last dusty pebble and broken twig.

It had never occurred to him how devastatingly beautiful his village could be. The swirl of color from the civilian outfits, the smell of freshly baked breads, steamed buns, and stewed meats, the feel of a gentle breeze upon his skin and the warmth of the sun's rays hitting his face—it was stunning, and it had taken the destruction of his home to for him to notice it.

It was for this place, these people, and his comrades that he was doing this. It was worth it, but damned if it didn't hurt. He could tell that his body was changing—the blinding headaches that reached him even in the seal, the increasing awareness of the outside world… his brain was slowly catching up with his almost-seventeen year old consciousness bit by painful bit.

It was at times like this that he was actually grateful for the Kyuubi. After extracting a promise from the demon that he wouldn't fiddle with Naruto's DNA to engineer his early release—or alter his physiology so he wasn't entirely human—the demon had spewed some gibberish about tissue density, brain activity and other junk that Naruto had no idea how to comprehend in between rants about the inferiority of Naruto and his kin. Apparently, thanks to the Kyuubi, the density of Naruto's brain matter was three times that of a normal human's and its activity, which usually decreased as a human aged, would remain unchanged.

Naruto wasn't sure whether this increased density was a good thing; his friends had always gone on about how dense he was—did this make their claims legitimate in some weird, twisted way?

When the fox started talking about increased information processing, dumping, and the delicate process of manually developing the neurons in his brain, forging the connections between them, all in relation to the habits and quirks of his actual personality, and then pruning them, Naruto tuned out—it sounded like the Kyuubi was discussing the makings of exotic technology.

The pseudo-teen wondered how the Kyuubi knew all these facts about human anatomy. Maybe it picked up a few things here and there; crushing a few hundred thousand of its chosen prey underneath its massive paws surely told the demon something about their brain density, yes?

Naruto had determinedly ignored the Kyuubi after the demon had taken one look at his dazed expression and declared all his effort at "advancing your pitiful, primate-like composition without expanding your pea-sized brain to astronomic proportions" hopeless. Naruto's stupidity, according to Kyuubi, had nothing to do with his brain's firing power.

What a jerk.

He knew that had the beast not been in him, he would have had to wait in the isolation of some dark corner of his mind until the—what had the Kyuubi called them?—synapses in his brain could handle the pressure, the speed, of his older mentality without being reduced to slush. He was impatient enough as it was—would he have simply gone insane had the Kyuubi been absent, speeding along the growth of his brain? Would his will have been strong enough to survive a decade, maybe longer, in absolute seclusion with nothing but flashes of the outside world where his full intelligence, his full capability, was stagnated because of the container he was trapped in? What would happen if he was trapped in the seal while another him—another personality—developed outside?

He didn't know. He didn't want to know. But, in the end, that impatience had cost him.

He had made a mistake. Naruto had been so happy that he could see the outside world that he clued his father into the fact that he wasn't normal, that he wasn't simply a little boy. He had been so desperate for the kind of outside contact that he could remember, any type of information that he could sort through, some variety of news about the outside world that he'd let himself go. He had let his intelligence shine through—intelligence that, while unremarkable when compared to those of his own true age group, was abnormal for a toddler. He had a feeling that Minato was studying him, fretting over him because of his blunder.

He hated that he made his father worry.

What would Minato think when he found out that Naruto wasn't the little boy he had raised? That his childhood had been ridden with depression and anger, hatred and devastation? That the very village that they both loved so ardently had turned their backs on his dying wish?

Naruto would be forever indebted to his father, the man who had finally given him a taste of what a true family was like, but it was too late to erase the suffering he had endured at the hands of the people Minato ruled. Most of all, he was afraid that if Minato found out, he would abandon Naruto. For every time that Minato said Naruto was precious to him, that he loved him, for every time his father tucked him in and left a gentle kiss on his forehead, for every time that he was held and hugged with the utmost care, he was still terrified that he would lose that. Just imagining it… it felt like a fist was squeezing his heart, crushing it, mutilating it.

He could, in those moments, comprehend what Sasuke had lost, and that knowledge—it made him feel so stupid. Naruto had been so ignorant to think that he'd understood Sasuke's feelings! Even Jiraiya's death didn't compare to the devastation that crashed over him like a tsunami at the thought of Minato's demise. He had come to care for the man so completely that his absence would be like a stake driven straight into his heart—he would feel incomplete.

His father had become the one person he could trust above all else, and losing him… He didn't think that he would be able to handle it.

Naruto shook his head, clearing his thoughts. This was the first time he had been able to see and experience the world outside the seal in almost two years without that weird fog overlaying his every thought and action and he was determined to enjoy it. He would have to dumb himself down, act like a toddler, but Naruto knew it wouldn't be too hard.

His Tsunade-baa-chan always used to yell at him for acting like a child. Now that trait was finally coming in handy.

Hato had been practically vibrating with nervous energy during the confrontation between Minato-sama's housekeeper and the Iwa-nin, her entire body wound tense like a spring. On more than one occasion, Kurohyou had had to stop Hato from removing the woman's head; they had been ordered to watch and only intervene if the situation became dire.

It was only when Naruto had been extracted from the spot the housekeeper hid him in and replaced with a tsuchi bunshin under a henge that Hato relaxed.

Kurohyou hadn't comprehended exactly why Minato-sama had ordered them to stand aside after securing Naruto if Kizumi, the housekeeper, was involved until he watched the entire fight. From what he observed the woman was genjutsu oriented, with small chakra stores but immense control and an unconventional case of survivor syndrome. She had turned against her country, her comrades, to save Naruto, someone who she had come to love. Kurohyou both resented and respected that.

Though he too had felt the urge to simply dispatch each of the intruding nin—not only for daring to break into Leaf, but for daring to harm Naruto-sama—a sentiment he was positive that was shared by the rest of his team, he understood, after observing the woman's skills, why Minato-sama had wanted her to know of his team's presence in his home and why he'd wanted them to follow her if her loyalties were tested. Had Minato-sama not wished it, the team would have been completely invisible to the woman's senses, but the Kage wanted to give her a warning—touch his son and suffer the consequences.

The tall captain had to admit to being impressed by the woman's aptitude for genjutsu as well as her speed—as a jounin, that is. There were other nin that eclipsed her skills by miles, but Iwa had always preferred quantity over quality. It was astounding that she had become as specialized as she was.

Still, he didn't trust her. Kurohyou knew that he and his team weren't exactly sane, and for good reason—all four were senior members of ANBU. They had fought in the Third Great Shinobi War by Minato-sama's side; they were the best of their class. Squad A1 had been in ANBU for so long that their names were all but forgotten, pushed to the furthest recesses of their minds. They were only addressed as the animals on their masks, even by themselves. But this woman, this nin… it was obvious that she had been through some traumatic events in her life and had latched onto the first thing that made her feel human: Naruto. He respected her skills and knew her devotion to Naruto was genuine, but he also knew that the damage her life had inflicted upon her made her dangerous, maybe even to Naruto himself.

Kurohyou had to admire Minato-sama's patience. He knew it irked the man to keep the woman close, even after proof of her loyalty—that the Yondaime could hide his true feelings so well was a tribute to his skill as a shinobi, as a leader, and as a father. In the end, he was using her, just like he used the other shinobi under his command. She provided another method of protection for Naruto, one that would fight to the grisly end for him—a faithfulness that couldn't be falsified. One didn't go spearing themselves on swords for the thrill of it, after all.

He grimaced as he remembered that scene. Though they had gotten Naruto away from danger after the housekeeper had concealed him—a wise choice in Kurohyou's opinion as it kept his team from rushing in to kill her and her former comrades—seeing someone eviscerated was never a pleasant scene. Hato had nearly refused to treat the woman as her own form of punishment for putting Naruto-sama in danger (one of the few times he had seen the diminutive woman angry), though duty won out over personal feelings in the end.

Naruto-sama had been alarmingly calm during the entire situation, even when he was questioned on the events. The boy hadn't flinched when confronted with the scenes of death, hadn't torn his eyes away from the clearing even when he watched his father arrive in a storm of ferocity, disemboweling and beheading the closest nin in a flurry of blurred motion. Kurohyou knew, from the look on the Yondaime's face when the ANBU squad, the Kage, and his son were sequestered in Minato-sama's office after the events, that he had caught onto the blanks in Naruto's version of the events; blanks that told them he was either hiding something—which he had no need to; wasn't paying attention—which Kurohyou had known was inaccurate; or he didn't remember—which was worrying.

When asked why he didn't activate the seals that had been stitched on every article of his clothing, the child had answered with a quiet but determined, "Because,"—as if that explained everything—and refused to clarify his meaning. The rest of the gentle interrogation had been set aside when little Naruto became adamant that he be taken to see his Naiko-nee-chan because he didn't want her to wake up alone.

By the end of the night, Minato-sama had released the teams assigned to the perimeter watch at his residence; that they had been taken down by a group of Iwa jounin—whose skills here pitiful compared to those of Konoha's ANBU—was inexcusable. That they hadn't alerted their comrades to the intruders' presence was even worse. Kurohyou knew that Minato-sama was letting them count their blessings—that they were alive after an infiltration and their later defeat, by Iwa-nin no less, was a miracle in itself.

Two weeks after the events, Minato-sama submitted to his son's demands, taking him to see the housekeeper that afternoon. Her wound had been serious enough that she had gone into shock during Hato's emergency treatment, and had to be sedated while the rest of the damage healed naturally as any movement would delay her recovery.

Kurohyou had been flabbergasted when Minato-sama offered Kizumi a place in Konoha's military forces. The man's logic became clear when Kizumi denied the offer, instead asking to be reinstated as Minato-sama's housekeeper, however dull the post was.

Namikaze Minato was a master manipulator and it seemed like his son had picked up that particular trait of his, however unorthodox the boy's methods might be.

His lips curled upwards the slightest bit underneath his mask as he kept his eye on Kizumi and Naruto-sama. The pair was winding their way through Konoha's streets on one of the woman's weekly shopping trips. As an Uchiha and her sons approached from the opposite direction, Kurohyou caught Naruto tense, the boy's eyes widening comically and his small jaw slackening.

He hummed in his throat briefly, the slight noise the only indication of his amusement—as Kurohyou, captain of Konohagakure's ANBU first Alpha Division squad never laughed—and motioned for his team to move closer.

He wondered what caused Naruto-sama's rather entertaining reaction.

He had recognized that Konoha was different; new—old?—people, a sundry of buildings he couldn't identify, and so much more color. The paint was new and unchipped, the shops weren't as dull as they were during the Sandaime's reign, nor were there vacant, gloomy, dust-filled hovels huddled between their vibrantly busy neighbors. And, most of all, there were more smiles—smiles, and they were directed at him. People greeted him on the street with grins and "Good morning, Naruto-sama!"s. It was scary and disorienting, but it stoked the satisfying fire that burned in his belly at the thought of his village.

He grinned, his cherubic face brightening adorably. As shallow as it was, this was what he had desired growing up—this recognition, this sense of belonging. To finally have it was mind-boggling.

Moments later, Naruto felt his mouth pop open and his eyes widen in surprise—and a bit of apprehension—when his gaze snagged on an approaching family from his spot on Naiko's hip. His jovial mood visibly deflated in the wake of his shock.

He would recognize that duck-butt hair anywhere.

Naruto knew the porcelain-skinned, dark-eyed, and dark-haired people milling around the streets were Uchiha, their fan-like crest proudly displayed on their clothing, but he hadn't connected them to Sasuke. Maybe it was because he had grown up listening to the tale of the Uchiha clan massacre and the plight of the Last Uchiha; he simply thought of them as separate entities. To him, it had always been Sasuke and his dead family—dead, not alive, not surveying the civilians, not standing at street corners while they scanned the streets for pickpockets or thieves.

Looking at them now, it finally registered that Sasuke's family was alive. Itachi hadn't yet killed them off in some crazy fit of rage. And Sasuke… Sasuke wasn't driven—obsessed—by his revenge.

He nibbled his small bottom lip in consideration, distracted by what it might mean for the Uchiha clan now that his father was still Hokage. Would they still be murdered? Would they survive whatever Itachi would plan for them in the future? Would Itachi even kill them in the first place?

He shook his head, composing his face, and watched the woman and her two kids advance. The one who looked around five years-old must have been Itachi. Naruto, who was used to seeing that face with a Sharingan, was stricken by how… innocent it looked. Pale skin, long black hair, a rounded face… Itachi couldn't have been out of the Academy yet.

There was no way that he could be afraid of that face.

The eyes were still gloomy and haunted, but nowhere near as dead, as lifeless, as the boy's older counterparts' were. It wasn't the visage of the man that haunted his dreams, his nightmares, the man who hunted him for what he contained—the man who had made Sasuke suffer so very much. He wondered, briefly, about just what had happened to make the older Itachi look that way, so dangerous and yet so desolate.

Now that he thought back on it, he was confused as to how a thirteen year-old, ANBU captain or not, had been able to successfully murder an entire clan of celebrated shinobi without alerting anyone to his presence. Better yet, how in the world did Itachi get away afterward? Surely there were ninja that could go up against a young teen—that was why ninja were put into teams, after all.

It… didn't fit. Naruto's eyes, which had wandered off during his musings, returned to the face of the younger Itachi, a face that didn't look like it could commit the horrors, the crimes, that his older, alternate self had been charged with. He frowned, puzzled by the direction in which his thoughts were leading him.

If he had figured out—him, a person that had never been hailed as a genius, a person that could admit to being immature, ignorant about the ways of the world—that the Uchiha massacre simply didn't add up, why didn't people who prided themselves in their intelligence and perceptiveness discover the discrepancies any sooner? Surely Sasuke, who was so much smarter than him, had to recognize that there were major holes in the story.

But it didn't matter now. It was too late, or rather too early, for it to mean anything.

His gaze drifted over the woman's face, soft and gentle features greeting the world—what he had always envisioned as the expression of a perfect mother—and locked onto the younger child, a toddler that was balanced on her hip.

Naruto's eyes burned slightly, the hot sting of tears tickling his eyes unpleasantly. It had been so long since he had seen Sasuke, and never had he seen his best friend with such a look of contentment on his face. The raven-haired child was gripping his mother's casual kimono tightly, small hands fisting the fabric, and his head resting on the woman's shoulder while his large, curious black eyes roamed around the marketplace, absorbing the sights and the people. For a second, Naruto wanted to flee, to run from Sasuke, afraid that if he stayed, this entire reality would shatter and he would be left picking up the pieces of his heart once more. He buried his face into the crook of Naiko's neck and shivered.

Naiko, noticing his distress, ran a gentle hand through his hair and cooed quietly at him as she eased him into a tender but strong embrace. He basked in her attention unashamedly, soaking it up, treasuring it, before peeking at Sasuke through golden bangs. Naruto started when he found those dark eyes—so guiltless, so naïve—staring right back at him in wide-eyed curiosity, accompanied by a small, blissful smile.

Naruto would never forget that look.

That night, as he lay in his bed, surrounded by Jiraiya's presents, he shivered. When it came down to it, he was afraid—afraid of seeing his friends, afraid of growing up with children who he already knew, who he had fought with in his own time, who he had cherished for their strength and character… He was afraid that these people, these children, would no longer be the people he loved. This Sasuke, it wasn't his Sasuke. Jiraiya wasn't his Jiraiya. None of them were the people that he'd come back for. And what then, when these people didn't know his strengths or flaws, his secrets—didn't know him, the loud, obnoxious, number one surprising, knuckle-headed ninja—did he have left to fight for?

Chapter Text

He choked on the thick, dusty atmosphere. The coppery scent of blood invaded his nostrils and he fought the urge to sneeze. Naruto struggled to keep his face impassive while he frantically searched for his loved ones and comrades.

Fires burned and buildings collapsed; broken pipes flung great fountains of water into the sky as bodies were crushed under the rubble. A mixture of water, mud, concrete, and blood drenched the street, crunching underneath his sandals with every step. Naruto suppressed a sob. Konoha was in shambles.

He ran, shadowed by his summons, to where he sensed Tsunade-baa-chan's weak chakra signature. The Godaime Hokage's genjutsu had failed, and she was being supported by her apprentice and his teammate, Sakura. He dashed to her and wrapped her in a hug, overjoyed that she had survived the initial attack.

"What's going on?"he asked. His voice was rough and scratchy in the dry, dirt-clogged air. Tsunade's head lolled and her eyelids fluttered. He laid a concerned hand on her pulse before turning to Sakura, who was feeding chakra to her mentor. "Sakura?" he implored. He needed answers.

"T-they—it's Akatsuki," the pink-haired nin whispered exhaustedly. Her eyes were overflowing with tears and her face, everyone's face, was streaked with sweat and grime. "An explosion—they came and there was a huge explosion—so many people died—I don't—Tsunade-shishou summoned Katsuyu to help heal people—they were too strong—and she, she used so much chakra—"

Sakura's hysterical rambling cut off with a sob. Naruto's eyes closed sadly and he laid a strong hand on her shoulder. He stilled and searched again for any chakra that he recognized, breath hitching when he couldn't find one of the ones he was looking for.

"S-Sakura," he breathed, worried eyes opening, "please tell me that Kakashi-sensei is out on a mission. Please—" His voice cracked on the word. When Sakura turned her haunted eyes to meet his in an unspoken answer, he gritted his teeth and tried to hold back the tears. Fukasaku stood behind him in silent support.

Kakashi-sensei was dead, gone, murdered by the same people that had killed Ero-sennin. Not again, he pleaded. Please, don't make me lose someone else.

Naruto squeezed Sakura's shoulder and stood from his crouch. "Stay here," he ordered. His eyes were cold, determined. His teammate could only nod as he walked away to save what was left of his village, even as Tsunade's heart started to fail.

Thump-thump. Thump… thump. Thump… thump… thump… thu—

Naruto jerked awake with a gasp. His chest heaved and his small hands were fisted in his sheets, knuckles white as they clenched in remembered horror. He trembled in the aftermath of his memories of Konoha's devastation. He would never forget the sheer hatred he had felt upon meeting Nagato, the man that had destroyed Konoha—destroyed his home and the people in it.

Hate was such an ugly emotion—his insides twisted just thinking about it.

The last week was hard for him. After his brief run-in, if it could be called that, with Sasuke, Naruto had been quietly contemplative. His family—Minato, Naiko, Kakashi, and even Jiraiya—had made it their mission to see him smile, a rare sight after Sasuke's presence brought reality crashing down around his head. Naruto found it hard to accept that the people he grew up with were, essentially, dead to him. The recollections he had of them—memories of his own time, a life that was much, much harder than his effortless existence as the Hokage's heir—were only reminders of what he once had. They were the "what if" that was no longer possible; a future that was lost to him. He was unable to share those memories, and these new figures in his life couldn't relate. For all their similarities, for the identical faces and voices, the people he knew and loved were going to be different.

He wasn't sure he would be able to cope with the change.

He finally had all that he wanted—a family and the acknowledgement of the village—but it was a bitter consolation. He didn't consider it a fair exchange, one life for another, but he realized that fairness had no part it in; he was doing this for Konoha, for the people he loved—past, present, and future, dead or alive. It wasn't entirely about him, and he'd finally come to realize that.

Naruto sighed, pulling the covers over his head and relaxing into his bed's soft cushioning, and resolved to think on it tomorrow. Perhaps these feelings would dull with time, he mused, before drifting off into an uneasy sleep.

In the darkened corner of his room, Hato watched the toddler worriedly, her expression hidden behind the smooth curves of her dove mask. Absently, she deactivated the technique she had used to wake Naruto from his nightmare.

The Hokage would have to hear of this; Naruto shouldn't have to suffer from such awful dreams.

It was a pathetic attempt at flattery. Minato grimaced as he watched the man in front of him stumble over his words. He was dressed in a plain pin-striped kimono, the Uchiha fan clearly embroidered on the left breast. He had the dark ebony hair typical of his family, though his eyes were a lighter shade of grey than Minato was used to seeing on Uchihas. Maybe he wasn't full-blooded; it didn't matter to him.

"The Uchiha clan would be grateful if our esteemed Hokage would consent to allowing his honorable heir to attend the proceedings."

Minato leaned forward over the desk, chin in his hand, as his bored gaze pinned the man in his spot. "So what you're trying to tell me," the Kage summarized, an almost invisible glint of amusement in his eyes, "is that Uchiha Sasuke is having a birthday party, and you want my son there?"

The man seemed to shift on his feet a bit, but he nodded quickly.

Minato rolled his eyes. Clans and their ridiculous formality, he grumbled to himself. It would have been easier to simply ask me straight out; I don't have time for this crap.

"Send an invitation with the date and time," Minato informed the representative, eager for the man to depart and leave him in peace. He made no promises about attending, but he doubted he'd pass up an opportunity to get Naruto out of the house.

At the rate that Naruto was developing, something that he had been striving to keep a secret—and one of many that he seemed to be keeping from his beloved village—Minato was worried that Naruto would never be able to form true bonds with his peers. It was a well-known fact that, ninja or not, all geniuses had a common denominator: they think. And, for some, they consider and dissect and discover so much that they eventually stop caring about anything other than their own intellect, opinions, and conclusions.

In the ninja world, where power decided who was on top, the connections, whether they be father-to-son, mentor-to-student, or comrade-to-comrade, that anchored shinobi to their village were essential to the continued existence of the elemental countries and humanity in general.

On a more instinctual level, Minato didn't like the isolation that Naruto was forced into. He knew it was partly his fault. Naiko was a good person, but she was an adult and, if he was honest, slightly unhinged. Kakashi, as much as he loved Naruto, had never been a normal child, nor did he know how to interact with them.

Minato wanted Naruto to find friends before they learned of the importance of social status, to have those emotional bonds in place before they learned about the target painted on his back—and now, when the young were only concerned about their lives ten minutes from now instead of twenty years and the only connections that existed were those of friendship and family, was the perfect time for Naruto to discover that companionship.

And so, nearly a year after Naruto first laid eyes on toddler-Sasuke, Minato chose to accept the Uchiha's standing invitation at the last minute, having received the request nearly two weeks before. His lack of decision had been more out of absentmindedness than an actual attempt at aggravation; he'd simply been so busy that sending an RSVP had been the last thing on his mind.

After receiving the news, Naruto had been defiant at first, even going as far to throw a small tantrum. Though the fit didn't consist of flying fists, tears, and screaming, Minato had still been relieved to see the boy acting his age, silent treatment and surly glare included. But, in the end, the Yondaime had been adamant: Naruto needed to interact with children his own age. He didn't want his son to suffer the alienation that came with his status as the heir of a Kage from early childhood.

Naruto gazed dully at the intimidating structure. Their arrival was marked by numerous bowing torsos and empty smiles, and after which they were promptly escorted to what looked like the largest home in the Uchiha complex. It was a place that was filled with bittersweet memories for the blond.

He remembered visiting Sasuke here only weeks before the then-teen defected. He couldn't quite recall why he had shown up on the last Uchiha's doorstep, but it had been dark and he had brought two Styrofoam bowls of Ichiraku's ramen.

He could almost feel the sting on the palms of his hands—the broth had been steaming hot, and the bag he'd received had split half-way there. It was perhaps the most vibrant part of the night, barring the surprise that had been written over Sasuke's features when he'd opened his door to find his teammate standing there, sheepish grin in place.

Sasuke had been reluctant to let him in. He knew why; the sable-haired teen's home had been a shrine and prison to him, a place of memories both bitter and sweet. Naruto's presence must have contaminated that feeling. For someone who has so focused on vengeance, it must have been hard to let someone into the place of his suffering, and also the place where his most treasured memories had occurred.

There was none of that looming aura of death and torment clinging to the well-maintained building in front of him. In fact, the contrast was so great Naruto was almost tempted to ask whether or not they were in the right place.

Minato pulled him forward by the hand. He'd put up a fight to get here; Naruto hadn't wanted to reopen the wounds on his past so soon. He was partially ashamed that he'd fallen into depression so quickly, just by seeing Sasuke—as a child, of all things.

He smiled vaguely at the woman who opened the door—Sasuke's mother—while his gaze roved over the entrance hall, drinking in the changes wrought by the passage of time. Not much was different. Perhaps a few items, a few pictures, were missing, but only because they had yet to be acquired.

"Sasuke is right down the hall," Mikoto said, her voice gentle and quiet. It took a moment for Naruto to realize that she was speaking to him.

His father nudged him forward and he turned to follow the woman to the aforementioned room after handing her a neatly wrapped present. A wave of doom washed over him as he neared the open sliding door.

The room looked devoid of life at first. Naruto noticed a low pair of sofas pushed against the wall, leaving an empty space probably intended to be a play area. Against the far wall was a buffet table, where an array of impressive looking snacks for both adults and children were laid out. A banner hung above it, the bright, bold Kanji reading, "Happy Third Birthday, Sasuke!"

His eyes were caught by a flash of black, joined, seconds later, by one eye and one pale cheek. Sasuke, the birthday boy, was hidden behind the arm of one of the sofas, peeking out at him with anxious eyes. He looked to have grown since the last time Naruto had seen him.

After a moment, Mikoto spoke. "Sasuke-kun, don't hide. He's here for your party. Come and meet him." The boy looked reluctant, but he slowly emerged from behind the couch and approached the two people lurking in the doorway.

Naruto stared at Sasuke perplexedly, a bit baffled—and frankly, though secretly, quite amused—at the strange personality split, at the absolute dissimilarity between his Sasuke's attitude and that of this timid child. Who knew that Sasuke was a shy kid? If he were honest, he was expecting a stuck-up little bastard, even at his age; being proven wrong was both refreshing and rattling. "Hello," he greeted, Minato having drilled him in how to greet strangers—and that was who Sasuke was, after all, to both the Naruto known to these people and by his former life's standards. "My name is Naruto."

Mikoto looked surprised at the easy way he pronounced his words. It was a look he no longer received from his family, and he'd almost forgotten that the way he spoke and acted were strange, almost alien, to other people when compared to others of the same physical age.

"Hi," Sasuke whispered, stopping in front of him. He was a fraction taller than Naruto, but the way he nervously ducked his head made Naruto seem inches taller. He shifted nervously for a second, before he almost vaulted forward, the movement so sudden that it startled Naruto, and latched onto the blond's arm.

Uh, what? The younger boy stared at Sasuke uncomprehendingly. Why in the word was this child holding onto him like he'd disappear? He looked up at Mikoto for guidance but the woman had wandered away, like most useful adults did in such situations, leaving him with a quiet child that was quite determinedly hugging his arm to his chest.

What in the word did Dad get me into?

It seemed like hours, hours of being led around by a leech that was quite effectively sucking all the joy out of his life, before the rest of the partygoers arrived.

And why, Naruto wondered, did a three-year-old need a birthday party with guests other than family, anyway? It wasn't like he'd remember it later in life. Heaven forbid some child turn three without a giant birthday bash! They'd be ruined for life; completely traumatized.

He grimaced as he yanked his hand away from the child before him. Small, sticky, spit-covered hands reached for him anxiously, the determined gaze of their owner fixed on the toy—which belonged to Sasuke—in his hands. They were a drooling, snotty, blue-haired (blue? Really?) monstrosity and Sasuke, mouse-boy extraordinaire, was glaring at the kid so intensely that Naruto feared he would catch fire. He could almost see the thought crossing the toddler's mind: give! It was nearly a complete antithesis to Sasuke's, whose face very clearly read: die, scum!

Or maybe Sasuke's Sharingan would activate early, mangekyou-style, and send the toddler into a mental pit of doom. He shouldn't have been so amused by that image; really, he shouldn't.

He sighed and thrust the toy into the grubby hands, gave a soothing pat to Sasuke's head, and settled back into the brightly-colored cushion occupying one corner of the room.

His father was a mastermind, he had to admit; an evil one, but a mastermind all the same. Had Naruto known that this gathering was not a gathering so much as a birthday party for one Uchiha Sasuke, he would have found a way to vanish from the face of the earth, away from his father's quest to get him socialized. His grimace deepened at the thought.

From what the adults were saying, most of the heirs to the greater and lesser clans in Konoha were there. Minato, though, simply had to be early, being Hokage and all that. He'd already been there for hours, and the party was, in reality, just beginning.

Naruto knew that somewhere, deep inside the man, his father loved to torture Naruto with this type of thing. He just hoped it was a temporary fascination…

Because, in the end, Naruto really, really, really didn't need to know that Sasuke was a dribbler. Ever. No amount of blackmail was worth this torture.

He looked at his ruined shirt in despair, hoping that Naiko wouldn't think the drying spot of drool, already crusting white at the edges, was his. He couldn't even wipe it off, since Sasuke had commandeered one of his arms and nestled his face into Naruto's shoulder.

He was going to heaven for this, definitely.

Minato, who had entered the room after exchanging words with the guards assigned to this even, was thoroughly enjoying the expressions that Naruto's face shifted through. One would think he was being tortured, and the expression of resigned suffering that crossed his face as he gazed out at the squealing toddlers had Minato sniggering into his palm.

Not to mention the way the youngest Uchiha had attached himself to his son was utterly adorable. The sight filled him with a quiet hope that Naruto would actually gain something from this besides a healthy fear of unruly children. The boy would be a good friend to his son; Uchiha were bred loyal—though to whom was always up for debate—and strong.

He suppressed another laugh when he saw the look of revulsion as Sasuke drooled on Naruto's shirt; he felt for his son, he honestly did, but he wasn't above milking the humor out of the situation.

He knew that Naruto wasn't actually all that annoyed—he wouldn't keep his son here if he wasn't enjoying himself even a little. Looking out at the events around him made him thankful for Naruto's even temper and calm demeanor. Being a single father was hard even when he had people like Naiko, Kakashi, and Jiraiya helping; he didn't want to imagine what it would be like if Naruto had the attention span and disposition of a rambunctious puppy.

His eyes slid, almost unconsciously, over the room's new occupants—mostly the adults—analyzing them and their threat level, before settling on the approaching figure of Fugaku, the Uchiha clan's current Head.

The sable-haired man bowed respectfully, the gesture only a slight fraction of what he received from the nin under his command. Minato wasn't expecting anything more, of course, the Uchiha were prideful—all clans were—and Minato wasn't one to fret over proper greetings. Fugaku showed his respect where it counted, and he was just fine with that.

"Hokage-sama," he greeted.

Minato nodded at him in reply, "Fugaku-dono." He took in the strained features of the Uchiha head, his own visage softening in concern for the loyal member of his village. "Is everything alright, Fugaku?" he asked, his voice almost inaudible.

Fugaku grimaced, his eyes lingering on the pile of children that his youngest son was sitting on top of, before his gaze returned to Minato. He shook his head minutely. "I would like to speak to you about important matters," he said, his words implying that it was a subject that should be breached at a later date. Minato agreed—a child's birthday party was no place for matters serious enough to worry a man he'd thought nearly unflappable.

"Come to my office tomorrow," the Hokage murmured, turning back to the proceedings, his hands laced behind his back. "We will discuss your worries then."

Fugaku bowed shallowly and then walked away.

Minato watched him wander off, his sharp eyes taking in the sagging line of his shoulders and the deep lines of exhaustion at the corners of his eyes. He had no doubt that the entire reason Naruto had been invited to Uchiha Sasuke's party was for Fugaku to get his attention, and he wondered just what had the man so shaken.