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Fate plays with people's balls. And if you have tits, it bites them. The tenth of October was proof that Naruto had neither.
Thunder blasted through the weeping sky, and the raindrops beat against the rocks on the cliff. During Kushina's labour, the nine tails had broken past her weakened barrier only to unleash a vicious rampage on the village. An entire forest lay in tatters with fallen trees, and the houses collapsed into ruin with villagers running amuck. Amidst the raining debris, the snapping of timber frames, and the raucous Kyuubi, a blond man in a flame-helmed cloak emerged in the moonlight and vowed to end the nightmare. For his wife. For his just-born son.
He steadied himself atop the hokage faces as the Kyuubi's mouth widened and formed a giant amalgamation of blue and red splitting atoms. When they merged into a whole purple bomb bound to raze the staggering village to the ground, Minato teleported the Kyuubi to the outskirts, where the terrible bomb blast the air into smithereens. However, due to how taxing the technique was, his chakra was depleting.
He panted and dropped to his knees on the cliff, and even though Kushina and the baby were safe beside him, fatigue had plagued her. Regardless of this, she shot out chains from her remaining chakra pool and restrained the tailed beast with them. It hurt to breathe. Her soaked kimono clung to her shivering skin and blood from between her thighs mixed into the clear poodle, but at least her baby was snuggled safely in Minato's arms.
"Kushina!" Minato called to his heaving wife, and the baby burst into tears.
"We scared you, didn't we? I'm sorry, Naruto." Kushina focused on their wailing child.
The irate Kyuubi raved, its nine tails thrashing and splitting rocks. Any second now, it would break free. So Minato spawned a barrier over the cliff and an Eight Signs seal. He rested Naruto on the small podium inside the seal, and Kushina protested, "No... You can't seal it in him. My baby..."
She spat blood, and it hurt Minato to see her state. But they were dying. "To save the village... only Naruto can do it. He is our son; I trust him."
If he sat on his hands and waited for imminent death, the Kyuubi would kill his family. On the side, the third hokage arrived at the scene, and he was denied entry by the barrier. The Kyuubi took advantage of the Couple's distress and thrust its claw at the baby with rage. At this, frightened for Naruto, both parents hurried to shield him, effectively letting the claw pierce through them. Naruto shrieked. Fresh from the amniotic sac, he'd been denied his mother's touch the moment she held him; he'd been welcomed by his father's racing heartbeat as Minato strived to keep him from harm; and instead of their joyous kisses, the cold wind pecked his face and the heavy, mournful aura embraced him. So, Naruto wailed.
"Please, Lord Third... take care... of our baby. His name is... Naruto," Kushina cried, her voice fading.
On the tenth of October, fate cast aside Naruto, and the Kyuubi was sealed in him while his parents breathed their last.
The day Naruto was sold to the Crimson House of the red light district, the sky had wept as well. Then five years old, Naruto dragged his swollen feet behind a burly man who'd bound his hands.
"With the price you're demanding, the goods better be the empress herself."
Naruto caught the irritated voice from the patter of rain slamming against the roof. Thin candle light snuck into the potato sack covering his head, and when it was ripped off, it scratched his cheek, and the sudden brightness made his eyes tear up.
"See? Very fine quality!" The man beamed and at the small flushed face and soft golden locks, the boss lady put down her smoking pipe. The tears in Naruto's big blue eyes hang in his sockets, and he gritted his teeth. Any minute now, he'd spit at anyone who looked at him wrong.
The matron smirked at him. "Fiesty." She flittered her gaze to the peddler and mumbled, "One bag. Nothing more."
"But Boss, surely that's a steal. Things aren't going well down in Konoha... To find such a beauty was a hassle, you know—"
"Business is down everywhere," The matron cut in and added, "Be good. I'm your customer, and we have more transactions ahead of us." She pushed forward the pouch filled with silver in front of him, and he conceded.
When he'd taken his leave, Naruto and her remained locked in a stalemate. Amused wrinkled pools against wary blue torches. Naruto hadn't an idea where he was. Since he could remember, he'd been scavenging on the streets and fighting with stray dogs for leftovers. Konoha? Oh, how he loathed that village and its people. Peace has been alien to him and bruises a companion ever since he could waddle on his two feet. If he'd been surrounded by hate all his young five years and survived it, he didn't intend to rot away in this new shithole.
Yoshiwara burned red every night, and the entire district choked with samurai, merchants, and court officials desperate for validation. Wisps of smoke and coquettish moans carried by the wind stayed strangers to Naruto and the children he lived with in the outskirt houses. Naruto pressed his calves on the cold floor in a corner as a few children were visited by their mothers, and even though the graceful women dressed in opulent kimonos, they couldn't mask their frail states. But at least they could drag their shaky legs to catch a glimpse of their babies. With a clenching heart, Naruto dashed inside the wooden structure they called home.
It's been weeks since his arrival, and with a consistent meal per day, colour barely returned to his face, and a semblance of chubby cheeks emerged. What purpose was intended for him here? Under the summer sun, days drifted like clouds and—
"Naruto!" Young voices called to him, and he lit up like the sun before joining them in wiping the floor. When they partook in this task, they pretended to be gushing waves sweeping everything in their way, and they yelled, "Ah! Woosh!"
But unlike the others, Naruto was especially extravagant with it and would often fall to his ass or tumble away.
"Dumbass," teased a pink-haired girl as they prepared to go again, and beside her, a pale-faced boy whispered his conviction, "This time, I'll win."
"Sai, Sakura! Come along," said an old lady-helper as she stepped into the yard. When she showed up, it meant going to the market. And just as the two children heeded her call, a pair of bright blue eyes popped before her line of sight.
"Anosa! Anosa!" Naruto jumped up and down in his yellow kimono and coerced, "You promised to let me come with next time, oba-chan."
"Don't call me old," the helper chided but caved before the pouty whiskered face. She sighed, "Don't take this off, or else I'll never bring you along again."
Naruto burst with joy as she tied a scarf around his face, concealing most of his features. The bustling crowds, the street plays, and the sweet aroma of roasted food beckoned him as they stepped outside the gate, and he drooled into the scarf.
"Don't be disgusting," Sakura scolded. It wasn't such a big deal to go outside Yoshiwara.
Unlike their district during the day, the capital was a beehive. Palanquin bearers raced along the wide road with their customers, street peddlers enticed travelling eyes with ornaments of jade and painted fans, and the tea houses crowded with frivolous samurai chanting, "Oneechan. Oneechan, one more cup, please."
"Mama, I want this." They passed a child tugging at her mother's kimono and found their way inside the vegetable market.
Heavier goods like bags of rice, potatoes, and eggs were delivered directly to the Crimson House by farmers; Therefore, the children would carry the lighter necessities today.
"Pepper, cinnamon, cucumbers, eggplants..." The lady got lost in her critical analysis of the products, and while Sai and Sakura remained close to her, Naruto's nose caught a whiff of a delicious smell. He flittered his gaze from the vegetable stall, and raised his nose in the air like a dog. So delicious! He followed the aroma, and in turn turned deaf to Sai's soft calls.
Past the vegetable market, if one cut a corner and went over the curved bridge, one entered the upper street. Rows and rows of residential houses lined it, but the savoury smell stemed not from there but from a lively open street filled with samurai.
"Miso ramen, please," came the order as one of the samurai sat on the benches outside with his katana beside him.
When the bowl of ramen was served to him, a wisp of thin steam drifted over the meal, and the customer split his wooden chopsticks with a watering mouth before he noticed right in front of his food a small, eager child.
"Ah!" He shrieked at the sudden sight and that invited onlookers to his table.
Naruto hopped on his small legs as saliva rolled from the corner of his mouth, and sang softly, "Ra-ramen... Ramen."
The scarf stayed in place and the baby fat on his face puffed up his cheeks. He remained unrestrained, or rather, unaware of his surroundings even as his eyes shone and pierced the hearts of the spectators.
Suddenly, a pale boy caught up with him, and tried to pull him away. Sai said, "Naruto, we should go back..."
The two struggled in place and when a loud grumble erupted from Sai's stomach, the shop burst into laughter at the expense of his burning cheeks.
"Don't be shy. Ojisan, two bowls of ramen for these babies," the samurai from earlier offered and his black pupils shone into a scarlet hue when he smiled.
"Do you want to give Shisui more siblings?" A man from the other table teased him, and more people joined in the laughter.
Steeming bowls of ramen were placed before the boys and they swung their small legs below the benches they were seated on. The delicious aroma he'd chased enveloped Naruto, and he inhaled deeply before taking a huge mouthful. But it burned the inside of his cheeks and the man wiped his stained chin. "You should blow on it first," he said and ate with them until they downed the remaining soup like water.
Satisfied, Naruto burped and a lazy smile spread on his lips. Sai bowed and gave his thanks to the man who gazed at them in amazement.
After paying, the man strapped his sword to his waist and prepared to depart. The sewing and embroidery of his black hakama were exquisite and he stood tall and strong. Such a confident poise made it impossible for Naruto to look away, and he followed his footsteps all the way to the curved bridge. However, the man paused in his stride and told him, "I can't take you in. I hope you know that—"
But Naruto burst out, "So cool! I want to be like you!"
The man's words vanished from his throat and he tried to pry any word past his lips in vain. The boys before him were dressed in well-worn kimonos, and their small frames appeared weak still, but in Naruto's gaze was a conviction—sturdy and bold. He glanced at Naruto's red cheeks from the burn and said, "At least let me apply ointment to your wound."
They were steered past the bridge and after a few metres arrived at a large dojo. From the gate, strikes of wooden swords hitting against each other and the daily routine of shouting apprentices were crisp and clear. When Shisui's dad ushered them inside the compound and settled them on the veranda, Naruto grinned and burned with excitement. He waited till their host left in search of the first aid kit before swinging to his little feet.
"Naruto..." Sai scolded, but joined Naruto as he climbed up the window.
They braced themselves on the wooden panel, and stayed speechless at the massive hall. Rows of students engaged in training as they focused on and mimicked the form of the apprentice-teachers in front of them.
"Again! Square your hips. The sword is an extension of yourself," the strict teacher ordered an older group of boys separated to one side of the hall. His wavy, rowdy hair framed his face and a pair of scarlet eyes left him striking.
The other side of the hall held a younger bunch of learners, and the teacher was even younger than the previous one. He taught in silence, and the small apprentices gave their all.
"Watch how he does it," the teacher called forth a boy identical to him to the front, and let him showcase his flawless form.
"Well done, Sasuke," Itachi praised and caused sparks to fly from the boy's eyes. Then he turned to the others and said, "Again. Right foot forward. Clench your core. Ease your breathing. Elbows up."
Naruto awed at the training and at the sweat rolling down their necks and dampening their clothes. He wielded the wooden katana, steadied his feet to mimic the form, and in one decisive swing sliced his enemy to the ground. However, this image collapsed when the sudden eye contact with the younger teacher cost him his grip and he tumbled back on the veranda with a thud.
"Oh, dear, it's dangerous to climb such a height." Shisui's father came running and helped him to his feet.
The shouting in the hall halted. Every apprentice rushed to their master's voice, and peered at the strange boy in the veranda. Murmurs erupted from the crowd, and Naruto trained his eyes on the bandage being wrapped around his ankle.
"Thank the gods it's just a sprain. You'll be fine." The master finished the treatment by applying ointment on his cheeks and patted his head through the scarf.
Naruto beamed at him and couldn't help but steal a glance to the side. His gaze roamed all over Itachi's poise and at the sword on his waist. One day, he'll be strong like sensei and his students!
Just before he could be ensnared into the arms of daydreams, a loud bang blasted from the dojo gates. And a frantic old woman dashed to the front of the dojo with a cry, "Oh! Naruto, you silly child!"
She didn't acknowledge any of the staring students and simply bowed to the master.
"I apologise for the trouble these boys brought you," she spoke cordially, and dragged the two boys up.
"No. I want to stay here and be a samurai!" Naruto thrashed around in her grip, and old women DETESTED scenes.
She snapped, "Don't be ridiculous!" And adjusted his slipping scarf tighter. "You don't belong here."
She ordered Sakura to help hold him, and all Sakura could do was within the capabilities of a five year old. Regardless of this, Naruto was dragged out of the dojo and his dreams slipped between his hands like sand.
When peace settled back in the dojo, questions and gossip suffocated the space, and Shisui leaned to his father's ear:
"That was an Oiran, right, father?"
And his father hummed in the affirmative as he replayed the scene of the wailing child being torn from his dream and forced into a path not of his own choosing. Fate was determined to make Naruto an Oiran. If Naruto thought otherwise, he'd have to carve his own path in blood and tears.