Work Text:
In one world, an anime fan takes his last breath. In another, a baby breathes his first.
The boy is a strange child, and all things strange must be monitored. Normal means safe. Strange means threat.
It starts with words. Strange words. Words that, by all records, shouldn’t exist.
They appear in patterns and shapes, on surfaces and scrolls. T&I specialists tell the parents their child is a genius, to make their own cipher this early in life.
(They don't tell the parents of their suspicions. Horrible, gruesome suspicions that by all means, shouldn’t be put on a three year old’s shoulders. The child never does get those notebooks back.)
(One ANBU watch is added.)
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
The boy is a genius, and genius means tool. Tools are to be cultivated and strengthened, for the good of the village. It’s too bad he’s not of clan origin, but miracle stories like that of the Yondaime Hokage always boost public morale.
The boy is determined, and collects stray kunai knives and shuriken he finds in the forest. He thinks they don’t know how he does target practice deep in the woods, struggling to increase his chakra control with academy exercises.
They wonder. How does he know? What is his goal?
It won’t hurt to make sure his loyalty is towards the village, either way. They pretend to not notice the chakra burns on his hands, the scratch marks across the trees. They pretend, because if the boy is as smart as he seems to be, he will know that turning a blind eye is more of a silent message than anything accidental.
We are gifting you this opportunity. Do not waste it.
(Another ANBU is added.)
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
The boy is too smart, too strange. He knows things he shouldn’t, sticks his nose in things he would be better off avoiding.
He has no reason to befriend the Kyuubi Container.
He has no reason to befriend the Clan heirs.
He has no reason to tilt their loyalty away from the village and towards his own goals.
They speak that strange, hard-edged language (because it must be a language, with its quirks and tones and idiosyncrasies), frustrating the hidden watchers due to lack of understanding.
But the straws that break the camel’s back are the tips.
The anonymous tips, but not really because nothing is anonymous in the village. The village knows all, knows everything that goes on (everything that matters).
Tips that suggest ludicrous things, like a rebellion in the Uchiha clan and the individuality of the tailed beasts. They speak of the future, of clan secrets and village secrets, of things a single Academy student should not know.
He thinks they do not notice his increased nervousness, timed in sync with the discovery of the tips. He thinks, but he does not know.
The village always knows.
(The ANBU are removed, but not the surveillance. It is no longer needed.)
No one hears from the boy again. He is lost to the wind, a single drop of water in the vast ocean, forgotten.
“NO!”
It’s gut-wrenching, the way a child is able to make such a despairing sound. The one word is horrified, desperate, and agonizing.
Any shinobi can recognize that noise. The sound a person makes when gripping onto the last semblances of the lifeline called hope.
One might think the child has witnessed the death of a loved one, or something of equal tragedy, instead of a simple rejection.
It’s such a shame. A child with such a bright future, snuffed out because of underlying mental illness. Alas, such is life.
“YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME! UchihamadaraaliveobitokillkaguyatsukuyomiISAWTHEMdeathchakrafruitzetsu-”
To a bystander, the jumble of words is utter nonsense, and holds the same value as baby babble. Most likely less than baby babble, actually. At least in the baby’s case, parents would direct soft smiles and caring eyes towards their offspring.
Here, in the reveled Hokage’s office, entertainment is neither needed nor welcomed. Even if the source is an honored Konoha citizen. The Hokage has much more important things to do with his time than deal with the imaginary crisis of stray civilians.
“-ihamassacrekuramatobiakatsuki people will die and I have foreknowledge! This world is a shonen manga! You have to believe me, people’s lives are at stake! Uchiha Madara is back and his plan will killfeardeath Madara-”
The child is sobbing hysterically at this point. Fat, wet tears drip onto the hardwood floor of the office.
Hiruzen Sarutobi, the esteemed third Hokage of Konohagakure, smiles and replies with a single sentence.
“My child, why should we be scared of our dear Shodaime Hokage?”
The smile turns feral.
Simultaneously, somewhere far, far away, a cold drop of condensation follows a well-weathered trail down smooth rock. It plinks onto a puddle below, the sound loud and unforgiving to the anxious silence.
In this cave sits a frail old man, far past his prime.
In this cave, the old man thinks back on his past achievements and smiles.
In this cave, a living legend thinks of his future plan and grins.
In this cave, Senju Hashirama tilts his head back, towards the moon, and laughs.
The world
will always
be
slightly
a s k e w~