Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

10 October, eight years into the second reign of Konoha's Sandaime Hokage

His name is Yamaguchi Ichiro, and he is ANBU. One of the Hokage's guards, to be exact. Sure, there are the two chuunin guarding the door, but against any serious threat they are chopped liver. And maybe chopped other parts, too. This is why it does not surprise him when a scroll comes rocketing out of nowhere and hits him right between the eyes before rolling off the bridge of his nose and dropping into one of his outstretched hands. He opens it with a small poof of chakra and begins to read. He feels the beginnings of a headache coming on as he finishes reading and pockets the scroll. And he was really hoping to go out drinking tonight, too. Regardless of his plans, the mission comes first. So he steps out of the shadows and pulls his mask down over his face. A snarling tiger covers his once-bland features and he ceases to become Yamaguchi Ichiro, Konoha shinobi. He is now Tora, the snarling tiger.

The buildings of Konoha's mercantile district pass by with blinding speed as he goes from rooftop to rooftop, moving as quickly as he can to his target. He does not bother with the body flicker technique: the amount of chakra he'd need to get where he's going would alert almost everyone in the area. A small mob has already gathered at the target's apartment by the time he reaches it. He hopes to one of the many kami above that no one's gone inside. Ibiki will have his head and their screams if they have. A set of hand-seals later and he begins to move through the crowd, his chakra effectively suppressed. They move out of his way as he approaches, though whether this is because they sense something wrong with him or the fact that he's an ANBU, he doesn't know and doesn't care.

He reaches the apartment building's entrance and pushes it open. What he sees really doesn't surprise him. Graffiti covers the walls, almost all of it vulgar in some way or another. Here and there he spots long lines of black paint that can only be tally marks. He wonders idly if they're from the crowd outside or the boy within. Wherever they came from, the boy is not going to be around to see them much longer. Ten steps beyond the door and he's standing in front of the boy's apartment, left hand tensed to draw one of his many kunai from its holster on his thigh. His right hand comes up and shoves the boy's apartment door open, the sound deafening in the almost-empty building. His target is sitting with his back against the far wall, staring at the door.

Tora strides inside, sandals impacting against the wood with each step. The boy looks up from behind blonde locks and his blue eyes lock with Tora's gray ones. Tora draws the kunai from the holster on his thigh, cocking it back over his shoulder as though he's about to deliver a mercy-kill to a dying opponent. In a way, maybe he is. The boy simply sighs and averts his eyes, waiting for the kunai to fall. It never does. After a few seconds, he looks back up to see the kunai extended toward him, handle first. “Uzumaki Naruto,” Tora says, voice muffled behind his mask, “come with me if you want to live.” Strangely, he feels like someone somewhere has said these lines before, but shakes it off as just after-effects of the bad sake he had last night. The boy stands, reaching for the kunai without a second thought. Tora lets him have it and allows his lips to curve ever-so-slightly into a smile.

Mission accomplished.

Morino Ibiki was not in a good mood. He’d been called to the Hokage’s office to deal with the boy who is snoring lightly in a padded chair off to the Sandaime’s side, a call courtesy of the ANBU commander. “So, you’ve finally gotten him away from the villagers,” Ibiki starts.

“Yes. Tell ANBU-san I appreciate his help.”

“I will. What do you plan to do with him?”

“Oh, it’s not what I plan to do with him…”

“You can’t be serious,” Ibiki whispers, paling.

“Yet I am. You, and by extension the rest of ANBU, are going to become Naruto’s guardian.”

“Not like we weren’t already,” Ibiki mutters.

“So you should have no problem raising the boy between the lot of you.”

“Hokage-sama, I really must protest. ANBU is no place for a child, discounting the fact that most of them wouldn’t know how to raise one.”

“And yet, that is exactly what they are going to do. Perhaps Danzo is right: with the Kyuubi sealed inside him, the boy will never be anything more than a living weapon.” Sarutobi takes a small puff on his pipe, the licorice-scented smoke curling toward the ceiling. Ibiki sighs, his scars pulling taut as his eyes slide shut. 

“I only wish that had not come to this.”

“Don’t we all?” Sarutobi extinguishes his pipe and sets it aside before steepling his fingers. “Still, we must work with what we are given. Make Minato proud of his son, Ibiki.”

“I will, Hokage-sama, I will.” Ibiki turns from the Hokage’s oaken desk to the chair containing the Uzumaki boy. He slides one arm under the boy’s kneecaps, at the junction of his thigh and calf. The other arm hooks behind the boy’s back, with Ibiki’s hand clenching around his far arm.

Ibiki straightens. Naruto does not stir. “Even though he snores so lightly, he’s an incredibly heavy sleeper,” he notes as he leaves through the office’s casement windows.

The trip to ANBU headquarters is short, its dullness tempered only by the fact that Naruto wakes halfway through and immediately bombards him with questions like “Who are you?” and “Where are we going?” Ibiki dodges all of them with a simple “Later” and continues moving. 

They land in front of a small, nondescript office building and Ibiki sets the boy on his feet. The boy glances from Ibiki to the office building and back. “Where are we?”

“ANBU headquarters.”

“I’m going to become an ANBU? Everyone will have to respect me then! Believe it!”

Ibiki reaches forward and plants his hand across the boy’s face, silencing him, then begins to speak.

“First things first: you are not becoming an ANBU. Hokage-sama has asked that we teach you the Academy-standard curriculum, and that is all. If the teachers I have chosen for you decide to give you more than that, well, consider yourself lucky. Second, a quiet ninja is a good ninja. Now, follow me inside.”

Properly chastised, Naruto follows Ibiki - quietly - through the door. The room on the other side is bare, save the essentials of a desk, a receptionist to man it, and a pair of chairs to enhance the ruse of an average office building. The receptionist glances up as Ibiki enters with Naruto in tow. “Can I help you, Ibiki-san?”

“If you could find Anko and Ichiro and tell them that I have the student we discussed, it would be most helpful.”

The receptionist nods, stands, and disappears. The only mark of her passing is the open door on the other side of the room.

Naruto stares. Slowly, he turns to Ibiki, his eyes shining. Ibiki decides to nip the question in the bud. “No, the teachers I chose for you are not going to teach you that. It is a jounin-level technique, and you are not a jounin.” Naruto pouts, but does not say anything. Instead, he clambers into one of the two chairs, with Ibiki taking the one opposite. “While we wait for your teachers, do you have any questions?” Naruto nods.

“Er, if the two teachers you chose are just teaching me the Academy-standard stuff, why not just send me to the Academy in the first place?”

“The Hokage feels that the Academy’s teachers will not give you all of the teaching you require. Thus, he has assigned me the task of mentoring you, along with any others that I choose to assist me. Speaking of those others, here they are now.” A kunai sails through the air and embeds in the fabric of the chair next to Naruto’s cheek. The boy startles, catapulting himself forward and glancing around wildly. Ibiki simply reaches forward and tugs the weapon out before passing it to the purple-haired woman who suddenly appears next to him. “Ah, Anko, you’re here. And where is Ichiro?”

The man himself appears behind Naruto’s chair a few seconds later, dressed in black with a snarling tiger mask hanging from his hip. He grins. “You called, Ibiki-sempai?”

Before Ibiki can respond, however, Anko cuts in with “This is the kid you were talking about, yeah?” Ibiki nods the affirmative, and then turns to Naruto. “Naruto, meet Yamaguchi Ichiro and Mitarashi Anko. They are the teachers I was speaking of earlier.” Naruto’s eyes widen as he glances from Anko to the kunai in her hand, and then back. “Nuh-uh! There’s no way I’m going with that crazy lady!”

A vein pulses above Anko’s right eye, “Crazy lady? I’ll show you crazy, you little brat!”

Ichiro wisely decides to intervene, hooking his hands under Naruto’s armpits and yanking him backwards over the chair.

“We’ll leave Anko-san to cool down a little bit, shall we?”

With that, Ichiro and Naruto disappear, leaving Ibiki with a very irate kunoichi on his hands.

“I hope he realizes I’m going to get him back for this.”

Chapter Text

"What is a ninja, Naruto?" Ichiro's voice is quiet as he leans against one of Training Ground Four's trees, yet his eyes are boring straight into the boy's own.

"A ninja is…" the boy pauses, unsure.

"A ninja is a weapon, to rented out to the highest bidder. He or she does what their Kage tells them, yes, but also what the client asks, as long as the two interests do not conflict. However, a ninja's loyalty is to village first, Kage second, and himself or herself third. He or she puts the needs of the whole over their own. Can you do that, Naruto?"

"I think so, Yamaguchi-sensei."

"Good. We'll begin by training you in taijutsu."

"What's that?"

"Taijutsu is punches, kicks, that sort of thing."

"Oh, okay."

Slowly, Ichiro begins to show Naruto one of taijutsu's many natural body stances, pushing and prodding him until the boy's form is correct.

"This stance is known as hachiji dachi, and is the basic stance for many of the so-called "hard" taijutsu styles."

"Hard styles? Shouldn't you be starting me on the easy stuff?" Naruto asks, a slightly irked look on his face.

"I don't mean hard as in level of toughness," Yamaguchi explains, breaking his stance to provide explanatory hand gestures. "The terms 'hard' and 'soft' refer to the amount of force a defender uses to stop an opponent's attack. A hard style, like the Goken of Maito Gai, is going to use as much force as possible to divert any attacks. The Hyuuga clan's Gentle Fist, on the other hand, uses flowing palm strikes laced with chakra to force an opponent to behave in a certain way."

"Chakra? Is that like the big wheel I see hanging in the weapons shop?"

Ichiro laughs, lips curving slightly in mirth. "No, Naruto, that's a chakram. Chakra is a combination of physical and spiritual energy that can be used to do things like walk on water."

"Or appear out of thin air," Anko says, having appeared out of thin air herself. Naruto jumps nearly a foot in the air.

"Yes, that too," Ichiro concedes, nodding, his brown spikes moving with every shake.

Anko glances from student to teacher and back. "So what have you taught him while I've been "talking" with Ibiki?"

"Just one of the basic taijutsu stances."

"That all? At least tell me you taught him a good one."

"Hachiji dachi. I intend to teach him hard styles, because he's got the physique for them."

"Feh. When you're ready to let the kid do some real damage, come find me." With that, Anko disappears deeper into the copse of trees that surround Training Ground Four.

"Where's the crazy lady going?"

"To blow off some steam, probably. Now, back to your stance."

As Naruto settles into the hachiji dachi, Ichiro mirrors him, correcting any errors.

"Good. Now keep one fist at your side. Use the other for an uppercut."

Naruto's left fist comes rocketing upward, narrowly missing Ichiro's chin.

"Again."

Naruto settles back into his stance, hands at his sides, as though he's simply lazing about. Ichiro catches Naruto's wrist as he uppercuts, holding it in place. "Alright. We're going to keep practicing this one move until you can do it in your sleep."

Naruto opens his mouth like he's about to say something, but Ichiro cuts him off.

"A word of advice: fear not the man who has practiced ten thousand katas once, but the man who has practiced one kata ten thousand times."

Naruto blinks in confusion.

Ichiro sighs.

"Practice makes perfect."

"Oh. Why didn't you just say that?" 

Day in and day out, Ichiro trains Naruto in that exact same uppercut, until he can do it equally well with each hand. Until he can do it equally well with each hand while blindfolded. Or in his sleep. To test this, he surprises the boy by diving through his apartment window. The answering uppercut leaves him chuckling and rubbing a slightly bruised jaw. “Will you let me get some sleep now?” Naruto asks, fist still extended, green nightcap perched slightly sideways on his head.

“I think you’ve got that uppercut down solid, so yes, I will let you sleep,” Ichiro says, before affixing his ANBU mask and diving back through the window.

The next day sees Naruto throwing punch after punch at a large wooden pole.  “Don’t tuck your thumb into your palm. It prevents you from holding anything in the hand you’re punching with.”

“Why would I want to do that?” Naruto asks, taking a slight break from mauling the log. “Because it’s a good follow-up move. If you’re holding a knife, you can punch your opponent in the face, then bury the knife in his eye.”

“What about just burying the knife in his eye as a first strike?”

“That works, too.”

Anko appears behind Naruto, wrapping an arm around his neck. “And what if the opponent has you in a choke hold? What do you do then?”

Naruto’s elbow to her stomach is his only response.

“Not a good idea, kid. Elbowing your attacker away from you is only going to make the hold tighten. Instead, prevent the chokehold in the first place by putting your hand in front of your neck. When your opponent wraps an arm around your neck, simply shove forward with your hand.”

So it went as winter turned to spring and spring to summer. Ichiro (the ANBU had asked that Naruto not call him Ichiro-sensei) would show him one of the many katas he had up his sleeve, and Anko would appear at some point and throw a wrench in his plans.

Oftentimes, the “wrench” is a hail of kunai that appear out of nowhere, forcing the boy to dodge frantically or end up with multiple gut wounds. Depending on when Anko appears, Ichiro either calls it quits for the day or passes Naruto’s instruction to her.

Instruct him she does.

By summer he can mold enough chakra to form a single clone of himself.

In addition to ninjutsu, Anko teaches him what a kunai is and where to best place it in order to take an opponent down in as few hits as possible. Each lesson is not given freely, however, and Naruto ends up having to use each technique against her, with Ichiro watching from the sidelines.

In any sort of fight, a jounin is going to beat a genin every single time. It’s even less of a contest if the jounin’s opponent hasn’t even passed the Academy yet. Thus, Naruto ends up in the dirt more often than not, with a kunai buried in the soil next to his head to remind him that he was this close to a simulated death.

However, instead of giving up, Naruto simply yanks the kunai from the earth and charges back into the fray.

“He realizes he’s just going to end up back in the dirt, right?” Anko pauses to consider Ichiro’s question as she watches three shadow clones of herself beat the boy black and blue. “I think so, yeah.”

“So why does he keep doing it?”

“I keep doing it because I’m never going to give up!” Naruto shouts, evidently having heard their conversation over the sounds of flesh impacting on flesh.

Anko scoffs. “He’s an idiot, but at least he’s a determined idiot. Hopefully we can mellow that a little bit so he doesn’t go charging into every fight he finds.”

“Indeed. A good ninja knows when to run away, so that he may live to fight another day.” At that moment, Naruto goes sailing through the air and lands hard on his back. Anko dispels her clones and walks over to stare down at the prone body of her student. “Give up yet?” she asks, extending a hand.

“Never!”

“If you can’t learn when you’re outmatched, you’ll never become a ninja. No one will trust you if you don’t know when to cut your losses and fall back. Do you want to send people to their deaths, Naruto? That’s all you’ll end up doing if you charge into every fight you encounter. Your comrades will die meaningless deaths, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself. So I’ll ask you again, do you give up?” The boy’s eyes shine with unshed tears.

“Y-yes. I give up.”

The words taste bitter in his mouth.

Chapter Text

For the second time, Ibiki finds himself being called into the Hokage’s office. “Have a seat,” the Hokage says, his pipe unlit and set to the side of his desk. ‘Not some sort of major decision, then,’ Ibiki thinks, ‘otherwise he’d be smoking to calm his nerves.’ He seats himself and waits for the Hokage to speak. “Do you know what day today is, Ibiki?”

“September twenty-seventh,” the jounin replies, wondering where this discussion is going to go. “Have you decided what you’re going to get Naruto for his birthday?”

The expression of bafflement on Ibiki’s face makes the Hokage sigh. “I gave the task of Naruto’s nurturing and education to the ANBU for two reasons: one, I needed to give the boy teachers that I knew would not try to sabotage him. Ichiro is one of my bodyguards, and doesn’t have a disobedient bone in his body. Anko, with her curse seal, knows exactly what it’s like to be ostracized for something you have no control over. Thus, they make perfect teachers for the boy. Two, I wanted to see if raising a child would give the ANBU some of their humanity back.”

“What do you mean ‘give them some of their humanity back’? ANBU are just as human as every other ninja.”

“Not in their minds, they aren’t. At best, they have one or two harmless psychological quirks, like Kakashi’s porn addiction. At worst, they’re mindless killers simply waiting for someone to slip the leash off their necks. I was hoping that having Naruto in amongst them would help thaw a few of those head-cases out, but that’s not very likely when no one spends any time with the boy outside of training.”

“I see.”

“No, I really don’t think you do. Here,” the Hokage scribbles an address down on one of the miscellaneous pieces of paper littering his desk (unknowingly consigning Uchiha Sasuke to wait another year before joining the academy) and hands it to Ibiki. “Go to that address. Speak to the building manager, and ask to see apartment three.”

“What am I going to see?”

“That rather depends on where you look.”

Needless to say, when Ibiki knocks on the apartment manager’s door later that day and shows him the Sandaime’s note, the look of disgust and the muttered “oh, you want to see that boy’s apartment” he receives is enough to pique his interest. Said interest is piqued even further when the manager leads him to the apartment in question and unlocks it before shoving the keys into Ibiki’s hands and stalking off without even bothering to look back.

Ibiki pushes the door open.

The room on the other side is bare save a bed, a side table, a small desk, and a small kitchenette. Ibiki makes his way to the refrigerator and yanks it open. The smell that assails his nostrils makes him gag. Clamping one hand over his nose, Ibiki begins to root through it, removing anything that looks like it’s gone even remotely bad. When he shuts the door, nothing is left but a carton of milk.

‘Alright, that decides it,’ Ibiki thinks as he walks out the door, locking it behind him and pocketing the keys. As soon as he exits the apartment building he brings his hands up into the ram seal and shunshins away.

He reappears at Training Ground Four. Ichiro glances up from where he’s been instructing Naruto in Heian Yondan, one of the many kata that branch out from the hachiji dachi stance. “Yes, Ibiki-sempai? Was there something you needed?”

“I need to talk to Naruto for a moment.” The boy in question turns to face Ibiki.

“Huh? What is it?”

“Once you’re done here, go get some rest. You and I are going to go see the Hokage tomorrow.”

“What for?”

“You’ll find out when we get there.”

Uzumaki Naruto wakes bright and early, yet still manages to get his rest, as instructed. That’s something he’s been getting good at, following instructions. After the incident with Anko’s clones at the training ground, his instructors are leery of giving him orders like that again. He can see it in their eyes, the way they flicker toward him then away, silently observant, as though waiting for the break that his one crack in composure may foreshadow.

He won’t break. He won’t allow himself to. A good ninja, a good weapon, does not break. It does its duty until it is sheathed for something that better suits the task at hand. Privately, Naruto hopes that his task never ends.

He allows these thoughts to carry him as he goes about getting ready, pulling on a mesh undershirt and its accompanying blue overshirt, then a pair of long, blue shinobi pants with hardened metal knee and shin guards. The entirety of the outfit is a gift from Ibiki, the early first part of a birthday present. Gone is the orange jumpsuit worn previously.

After all, kill-me-please-I’m-a-target-orange isn’t really the best color for a ninja.

Opening the bottom drawer of his bedside table, Naruto removes three kunai (the minimum for active-duty shinobi) and slides them into the pouch affixed to his left hip. Satisfied that he is ready, Naruto strides out his door without bothering to lock it. Ibiki meets him at the entrance to the building proper, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his knee-length black trench coat. “Ready?” Naruto nods.

They walk towards the Hokage’s Tower at a slow pace. It is an hour after dawn, and there is no real foot traffic to impede their progress. “Anko mentioned something about shinobi using illusions,” Naruto begins, “who’s going to teach me that?”

“I will, three days from now.”

“Will I ever been done with training?”

“Truthfully?” The word is something of a joke between the four of them. After all, shinobi steal, lie, cheat, seduce, and murder. They do not deal with such noble things as truth. “You’ll never really ever be ‘done’ with training. We may decide that you’ve reached the proficiency to become a genin and give you your forehead protector, but then we’ll choose a jounin-sensei for you and he or she will simply train you more until you take the chuunin exams.”

“And then?”

“And then, if you’re lucky, you become a chuunin, and whether you train more after that is up to you.”

The short conversation manages to make the distance from point A to point B seem like an instant, and soon Ibiki is striding inside the Tower with Naruto following closely behind. The chuunin at the desk barely acknowledges them, so frequently has Ibiki been coming to see the Hokage. He simply dismisses the blond boy behind him.

Ibiki and Naruto ascend the spiral staircase to the Hokage’s office at the top of the tower. A door stands a few strides’ distance from the last stair. When they reach it, Ibiki knocks thrice, each impact echoing off the oak.

“Enter.” The Hokage’s voice is soft, muffled by the door. They do so, with Ibiki ushering Naruto in ahead of him and shutting the door behind himself.

“What do you need, Ibiki?”

“I wanted to discuss that issue from yesterday, Hokage-sama.”

“And which one was that? I deal with many issues each day, Ibiki.”

“The issue of Naruto’s living arrangements, Hokage-sama.”

Here Naruto perks up. “My apartment’s just fine!”

Both Ibiki and the Sandaime stare at him. “Please tell me that some of your prankster attitude survived Anko and Hatake’s training, and that you are now joking,” Ibiki mutters, his voice low.

“I’m not! My apartment’s just fine!”

“Regardless of what you believe to be the condition of your apartment, Ibiki has an idea he’d like you to consider. Think of it as the second part of your birthday present.” Naruto glances from the Hokage to Ibiki, waiting.

“If you would like to do so, the option is open for you to move into the ANBU barracks,” Ibiki says.

“I thought I wasn’t going to become an ANBU?”

“You’re not. However, if you live at the ANBU barracks, it’ll be that much easier for your teachers and myself to find you. You’ll also be able to bug other people for training. Whether they train you or not is another matter entirely.”

“Is there anything I need to do?”

“No. Just bring your gear back here and we’ll head over.” Naruto glances down at himself, then back up at Ibiki. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“That’s it? That’s all you’re taking?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s a fresh start. Don’t people usually make fresh starts with very little?” Ibiki cannot refute that logic.

“…Fine. We’re taking you shopping tomorrow, though.”

“Can I get some exploding tags?”

“No. Not until you get your chuunin vest, at the very least.”

“Aw, man…”