Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ What it Means To Be Shinobi ❯ Chapter One - Turnabout is Fair-Play ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

AUTHOR NOTES: Dedicated to Ukki-kun, who died for our cheap thrills.

DISCLAIMER: Kishimoto-sensei, Shonen Magazine and all sorts of people at VIZ own Naruto and the premises therein. This is a work of fan-created fiction intended solely for amusement. No infringements intended.

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"Don't be defeated by DNA."
- Title Page, Volume 1; Chapter 9

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"You'd kill yourself for recognition,
Kill yourself to never, ever stop
You broke another mirror,
You're turning into something you are not"
- Radiohead, High and Dry

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Chapter One: Turnabout is Fair-Play

+

 

As far back as anyone could remember Naruto's ambition was to become Hokage, the Fire Shadow, champion of the Village of Hidden Leaf, and an acknowledged master Shinobi who surpassed those who previously inherited the name, some one to look up to, someone to admire.

 

Failing ninja academy hadn't proven to be a setback, neither had learning that he housed an indestructible demon under a layer of skin and bones and an impressive swirling seal. In the face of adversity he held true to his -Nindou-, the 'way of the Ninja' he had adapted toward every failure he committed. Through the rejections of the only girl who ever held his interest. Through the betrayal of the only friend he considered as close as kin. Through the trails and training his demented mentor saw fit to put him through. He had been known as 'dead last' in everything he endeavored at, yet with each failing his conviction grew. This made him stronger, he assured himself, this made him more admirable, more heroic. It proved him to be more than a demon-vessel and a fool. But in all his sixteen years that he coveted his -Nindou- nothing prepared him for failure. While the failing made him human, it also made him weak. Anyone can be manipulated in their weakest state, regardless of how steadfast their conviction, even a future Hokage. It didn't help that Naruto always learned things the hard way.

 

+

 

"Don't die," muttered Naruto, through notably extended canines.

 

It wasn't that he expected a reply. When a person had their arms and legs broken, their breastplate shattered, their skin flayed off the majority of their person and 'deathblow' sort of head wound going on, there was little by way of physical communication they could offer up. None of it reliable.

 

The former Leaf Nîn supported by Naruto's shaky embrace calculated the quickly diminishing minutes of his life, refraining from a demeaning gurgle or death-rattle-like cough.

 

"Naruto--" he started dryly.

 

Fierce tearstained crimson eyes nailed him with a warning glare. If his jaw hadn't been dislocated he would have smiled at the brazen act of earnestness. Some things never changed.

 

 

Naruto slowly laid Kabuto's frame out on the woodland ground. His breath hitched overhead and Kabuto chanced a glance at him. No, didn't matter, no glasses meant he could not see the man's face unless it came up good and close. Naruto wiped at his face with the back of his hand, effectively smudging his features further and making a smear of wet canvas, whiskers thick and eyes the color of liquid dawn.

 

"I think," the traitor mumbled low and to himself, "I got lost . . . maybe."

 

"Idiot," objected Naruto, uncommonly calm for someone in his current situation. Which was mid-panic, too emotional, in unfamiliar territory. Too far from aid, too near to uncertainty. "We're not lost. We're going home, now."

 

Kabuto would have laughed had his lungs still been capable of taking in enough air. He hadn't been talking about their wandering. His unfocused eyes softened, blinking in slow considering measures. He knew how to express kindness and cruelty with just the turn of his mouth and a look; he was a natural at espionage after all, adapting in enemy territory. Fortunately for him, it came easier than breathing. "Naruto-kun."

 

"What?" he half-snarled. It sounded to Kabuto's like a wordless and proud sort of pleading. He had heard many desperate frightened men plead for their lives. It was a rare thing to hear an unbeatable Shinobi implore openly for a childish ideal. It was regrettable what he meant to do; destroying a dream was more commanding a maneuver. Lose the battle but win the war. Regrettable to think, despite his own better judgment that he liked the kid, too. Sunshine hair and summer bright eyes, he reeked of Konoha without ever having been accepted there. It was some sort of home without ever intending on being. He could relate to that.

 

"You're still so headstrong," answered Kabuto, his voice light with amusement and weariness. "It's good that some people don't change," he explained further. Blurs fire and sky that made a portrait of Naruto's troubled face shifted.

 

"Yeah, I guess," he muttered beside him. Naruto moved around aimlessly, careful not to touch his one time -sempai- anywhere too fragile, certain one wrong grasp and the older boy would shatter.

 

Kabuto blinked up uncertainly, eyes not entirely focused and Naruto wondered if he was blind yet. It wasn't an unlikely side effect. Never mind the repeated blows to the head, there was also the exposure to extreme temperatures and elements. The way he looked up at him, unguarded and openly made Naruto more certain of it, that if he wasn't blind than he certainly wasn't seeing things right either. He tried to smile, it came off as a bit a sneer but the sentiment was there. "It's been a long while, hasn't it?"

 

Kabuto unwittingly returned the expression. He gulped loudly, catching equal parts air and blood. "Naruto-kun?" his voiced sounded painfully dry and small, fragile and falling apart.

 

"Yes?" he replied, determined to keep any emotions from his voice.

 

"I'm sorry--" Kabuto said sincerely, while his eyes closed heavily. When they opened again they appeared greyer, duller and sealed off in an unnatural way.

 

Naruto stared for a very long three seconds, sensing something he didn't have words for. He might have hated the man or at one point looked up to him. He learned early on you didn't look away from a man at the end of his life. It made no difference, a dying Shinobi was neither enemy nor friend; he was mortal man.

 

"--and, good luck." Kabuto breathed, and with his voice raised a shudder that shook his battered frame. The grey pallor of his eyes and skin, spread beneath skin level and his flesh began to change into ash, thick and cracked. The weight of his deadened limbs collapsed inward, revealing a husk, dried and fragile, and the shape of joints and muscles. His corpse looked like a fine sculpture and nothing resembling actual life.

 

The sudden shift made Naruto gasp in surprise. Tears of fury welled up in his eyes, becoming a catalyst to guilt. He was supposed to be a savior. He was supposed defeat evil things and protect good. But there was no way of doing that when friend could be an enemy with the switch of a headband. Ideals like 'safety' and 'home' seemed more dream-like with every passing day, and being Shinobi felt less like a way of life and more like a crime.

+

There was nothing left of Kabuto to bury. That felt wrong as well, to have lived a full life and then to vanish so completely. Not even a gravestone to mark the passing. Naruto thought by the scent of Kabuto's death, irreversible and final, he would never forget this final resting place of his former friend. He had been wrong to think there was no impression of his passing. Kabuto's death surrounded him, the corrupting stink of it was more than skin deep and it carried with him as he traveled. People parted when they saw him near. He assumed it was because the village he was entering was rural, small, unknowing and they respected the Ninja when they saw one. He hadn't wanted to admit that he looked like murderer, an untamed beast, little more than a man. A part of him knew the truth though; the part that entered the nearest bar, dropped heavily into a partition and got a bottle of Saké without having ordered. He served himself a cup because the waitress wouldn't, not that he would ask her to, not that he wanted to drink it. They hadn't questioned his age; they'd assumed rightly that he needed a round. He needed more than that, but this town was far too small to provide and far too close to Konoha to abet him. Maybe they could indulge him a bath. Maybe that was too much to ask.

 

After-Combat binge drinking was never a good idea, but Naruto had never been known for making the wisest choices. He lifted the cup and drank nearly all it's contents in one take.

 

When he was in top form it could take twenty rounds before he even got buzzed. Nine-Tails fox demon would be all twitchy and burning bright in that unsavory way that made his skin crawl. There was enough at the bottom to give off a strong smell of alcohol, purifying and flammable. His throat constricted uncomfortably as he swallowed his mouthful and he wondered idly exactly how much of Kabuto's ashes had he ingested while he watched the wind make grey and damning swirls into the air. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the fumes and willing the scent and feel of recent death to abate. It wouldn't. It was more than skin-deep now; it was in his brain, replaying all of it, every Jutsu, every uncalculated clumsy technique, every counter and defense, every winning blow, every dying breath. It had started at this bar.

 

Naruto smirked in reflection and brought the cup to his lips, just to smell, not to taste. On an empty stomach laced with demon Chakra, alcohol was a bitch to maintain. It had only taken one serving to make his throat burn and his head swim. When he felt this volatile nothing would serve to calm him. Nothing at all. No sort of hunt, no sort of speech, no amount of alcohol. And he hated the smell; he downright hated the smell because it was so potent. It hit him before the taste of it ever did. That and the way cheap dive denizens reeked of the stuff. Good people turned debauchees for the sake of reprieve. The good people of Konoha were like that, but not. He could see the same pathetic hopeful sight in a shrine, at a memorial plaque or staring off at some mountain-side monument--the same expression he could find any day of the week chugging serving after serving of Saké. It didn't have anything to do with sin or guilt, or apathy and grace. It had to do with life. Nobody searched out these sorts of sanctuary for a real answer; they just were looking for a temporary solace. At least for one more minute, or one more round, which ever came first.

 

An hour earlier, maybe more, he had come into the bar for directions to the nearest ramen stand. Jiraiya always said these places were good for information gathering and as usual he was more right than Naruto cared to admit.

 

He wasn't one to live in regret. He wasn't going to think about what could have happened if he kept on till the Konoha gates and hadn't listened to Jiraiya's advice about staying at an inn so they could have a fresh start in the morning. He wouldn't drive himself crazy wondering if he had tried finding the hotel first instead of the ramen stand would he have noticed the familiar shadows hovering in the back of the bar. It wasn't worth questioning who matched gazes first, Sasuke or he; the outcome would have been the same. The slow and graceful move to stand, the long developed connection forged by a palpable resentment, the challenging sneer before a formless blur took shape between them. Kabuto whispered into Sasuke's ear, while they watched Naruto nearing. Sasuke's displeasure was evident, particularly around his eyes, they way they narrowed, hardened and brightened to nearly gold in mute rage, and in the way his mouth pressed thinned into a line as he gave Kabuto a glare that would have made a lesser man crumble. It made no difference whether he lingered on the details when the outcome was unchangeable. The trigger in him had been switched. Over the horizon of service people and customers he captured the image, the arrogant and dismissive lift in his chin. Sasuke had disappeared behind a shadow of a passing man in the time it took to blink an eye. It was impossible to follow the motion and his aggravation with the crowd was liable to cost him ground. But Kabuto remained, and he smiled in a familiar kindly manner that made Naruto remember just what sort of cruelty the liar was capable of.

+

It wasn't till he was dead that Naruto considered Kabuto was only twenty. Ironically the legal drinking age. They weren't to far apart in years, raised in the same country, taught the same ideals. Yet Kabuto hadn't hesitated to betray his home and Naruto hadn't hesitated to strike him down. He didn't feel remorse, he felt resentment. Something about the experience robbed him of his bitterness toward Kabuto. Little realizations littered his mind and made the demon in him restless and surly. He hadn't meant to kill him, but he hadn't shown restraint either. He reasoned that he should be mad at Kabuto for getting between him and Sasuke, but then would he have felt better if it had been Sasuke dead instead of Kabuto? When did trying to rescue a friend feel so much like murder? Had Sasuke felt like that three years ago at 'Valley of the End'? Was that why he hadn't killed Naruto as he lay helpless and half-dead? Naruto himself had made a promise once, over the grave of a Shinobi-child he respected as both a friend and an enemy. He swore he would never function as a tool but live life honorably and by his own ideals. With that in mind, for three years he persevered on the principle that Sasuke was wrong and he was right. Sasuke needed to be corrected, forcibly.

 

If he had been wrong and conditioned himself to deal death so mercilessly, unfeelingly toward friend or foe, than where had his ideal driven him? Maybe it was idealistic but it consoled him when he felt torn within, when only a thread of decency divided the space between demon and boy.

 

Suddenly every intake of air tasted bitter and it had nothing to do with the alcohol.

 

+

 

Naruto hadn't seen Jiraiya arrive so much as he simply knew he was there. Countless times Perverted-Hermit showed up, unannounced, unwelcome and unnervingly well-timed to have missed the battle but be just in time for the clean up.

 

"There's no mess this time, Ero-Sennin!" Naruto growled in the direction of the door.

 

He wasn't one for making cynical statements. It went against his grain. He had meant the kill, the body. There was nothing left to claim even. Granted he looked a mess but Naruto never gave much expectation to repairing his screwed up self. He hadn't taken note of the lateness in the day or the way the service people scattered at the sound of his voice. He knew the old man heard but chose to ignore him, probably went straight away to pay off the bartender and keep them from calling the authorities. Naruto smirked at his dim reflection in his dirty drinking glass. In the murky liquid that shimmered up at him he could still make out the particulars of his features, painted in ash and dried blood. He wouldn't have to listen to the old man bitch about removing his forehead protector when making an ass of himself, 'lest he take down the good name of Konoha with him'. He gripped the glass and tossed back the last swig of his liquor. He hated the taste, the intense sense of warmth it generated under his numbed over skin. But he hated it less than acknowledging he'd lost his precious -hitae-ate- while killing Kabuto.

 

"--like I knew you would, stupid brat," Jiraiya finished a practiced tirade.

 

Naruto blinked slowly and glanced sideways at his mentor. It didn't mattered that he hadn't responded to the man since that one outburst when he'd first entered. They were all practiced dialogues. They were supposed to be lessons but he sometimes noticed it was getting increasingly difficult to tell which the stupid and willful student was and which was the jaded, world-weary teacher.

 

Jiraiya polished off another six servings while Naruto slowly turned his empty glass around and around in grubby hands.

 

It was well after dawn before they were on their feet again. The staff had long gone; Naruto only noticed that the place stank less of good people and their good people smells. Jiraiya nursed the remaining bottle like its contents had been made of honey and nectarines instead of fermented potato skins. He drank for every drink that Naruto wanted to drown in but couldn't bring himself to lift. He drank for every shadow that looked like the outline of someone familiar. He drank for the way Naruto's eyes saw through things, people and places like they weren't even there, like they were made of something too intense to focus on to long. And Jiraiya drank for absent friends because it was Tsunade's favorite brand of Saké and while neither of them had said it out loud, they both knew the time was coming for his their travels to end.

 

"--and that's it. No clues to follow?" asked Jiraiya, unsuccessfully trying to suppress a yawn as they walked out of the bar.

 

"What do you want? A song and dance?" replied Naruto with no venom in his voice. A profound tiredness had seeped into him as he had recounted the evening, skirting over details he knew Jiraiya could see plainly on his person. "I had to watch a friend die tonight. Don't you think if I had any clues as to where the bastard was hiding, I'd be out there tracking his ass down instead of hanging a round with you?"

 

Jiraiya spared him a particularly severe look. At times like that, when their glares were so identical it was obvious that Naruto had only come so far. He may have grown to nearly eye level with the white-haired Sannin, but they would never meet eye to eye.

 

"It's part of the job, kid," he said mirthlessly.

 

Naruto bared his teeth threateningly, struggling to keep his temper under control. "Don't give me that! Shinobi is a way of life, not just a job. It doesn't have to be like '-this-'!"

 

"Damn it," said Jiraiya, smirking at the first sign of life his idiot pupil showed all night. "I had hoped my elite lessons and superior training had beaten that foolish idealism out of you."

 

"Well, it hasn't!" Naruto snarled reflexively.

 

"Well, that's good, too," said Jiraiya, nodding to himself. They might never see eye to eye, but that had been anticipated.

 

"You're not making any sense, old man," sighed Naruto, raking his hands through his hair in frustration.

 

"I wasn't trying to," said Jiraiya.

 

"What the hell kind of teacher are you anyway? How am I supposed to learn anything if--"

 

"You're not," interrupted Jiraiya.

 

"Eh?"

 

"You're done," he explained. Naruto continued to stare at him dumbfounded.

 

"Right now, there is nothing else I have to teach you that you can't figure out on your own, understand?" said Jiraiya with a deliberate slow enunciation one would use while talking to a very retarded stump of wood.

 

Jiraiya's smirk lengthened when Naruto's expression clouded with confusion, brightened with excitement then darkened immediately with uncertainty.

 

"C-careful, Ero-Sennin," stammered Naruto, "you're coming dangerously close to sounding optimistic about me."

 

"Well, I am a great teacher. Plus, there's something much more important I've got to do. In the meantime you should head back to Konoha."

 

"By myself?" asked Naruto, looking simultaneously stricken and upset.

 

"Well," intoned Jiraiya, while stretching his back and cracking his neck simultaneously. "Someone's got to tell her."

 

Naruto glanced over the old man. He seemed to have gotten older in the hours they'd sat at the bar. The skin on his face a bit paler, the mousy white mass of hair seemed drier and heavier at the same time. Jiraiya had always been old. He was one of the Legendary Sannin and Naruto sometimes thought he may never have been young at all. But when he thought of Tsunade or Orochimaru, people who were once as close as kin, he always seemed to wither in reflection. Jiraiya may well have been talking about them all night long; he did that sometimes when he was certain no one was listening. And for the most part Naruto's company, in the state he had been in, was just as good as being alone.

 

Naruto nodded numbly and looked toward the fork in the road. One led to Konoha, the other away. Someone had to go in a report their findings. The act would mean loyalty to Konoha above all else, to the city and the people therein, to the stone faces carved onto an uncaring rock face and to the hundreds of names carved into a stone slab. He glanced at Jiraiya's back as he turned toward the road leading away. He thought to himself, maybe the old man was right. After all, turning his back on Konoha wasn't a lesson he needed to learn. At least not with help.

 

"This is a crappy way of going about it," sighed Naruto, as he crossed his arms to keep them from trembling.

 

Three years with Jiraiya, avoiding home because it had been the right thing to do at the time. He wondered, if it had been so right than how could it unnerve him so much to go back?

 

The old man smacked him once on the back as a jovial show of support. It nearly toppled him.

 

"Don't look so down," chided Jiraiya as he started away. "I know you'll miss me, but I'll look you up when I'm around."

 

"I'll be easy to find!" Naruto shouted after him, "Just look under 'Greatest Hokage Ever'!" He turned and stomped away.

 

Outrageous claims like that came so easily to him and the path he followed back was second nature. While his mind my have been uncertain, his mouth seemed to have gotten ahead of him.

 

+

 

Just as suddenly as he had chosen a path, when he entered the village he found he suddenly became misdirected. He knew Konohagakure as well as he knew the Nine-Tails Fox; pretty damn intimately. He knew where he had gotten turned about, the turn off of the market street, it led to Hokage Tower via Sakura's house. He knew he could have stayed on the main road and gone to the tower directly. He knew it was the right thing to do, to report in even if it was likely that border guard had sent the Lady-Hokage word of his arrival.

 

Even so, he stood in muted observance outside the Haruno household, lost and mystified. Every time he willed his feet to move, his mind lost against the memories. He had a fairly good sense of direction. Getting turned about was unlikely, but then so was the feeling of crossing the small wood bridge leading in from the main gate and expecting to see Cell Seven laying in wait for their Jounin master. Traveling and tripping so willfully after one another. A three-man cell, a lazy Jounin-Sensei and a world of opportunity just around the corner.

 

The sound of the front door slamming shut snapped him to the present. He stared blankly up into light eyes and fair hair that memory hadn't done justice. She strolled down the steps, carelessly running her fingers through shower-moist collar length hair, clutching a garment bag in the other hand. She paused as she made to turn and looked directly at him, very nearly through him, eyes widening with realization.

 

-She looks taller-, his mind supplied before it gave voice.

 

"Ino?"

 

"Naruto!" she replied, her voice a perfect mix between shock and amusement.

 

She smiled in a way that reminded him of his own. Broader than strictly necessary, kinder than he felt he deserved.

 

"How've you been?" he heard himself ask.

 

Her pale eyes washed over him, a searching sort of gaze that he couldn't discern the purpose of. He noticed she wore a casual layer of training mesh and no bandages or guards, only the forehead protector tied tight around her slim waist convey she was Shinobi. He reasoned it was her day off and felt slightly guilty for interfering.

 

"-We've- been fine, Naruto. Good really," replied Ino, while placing her free hand on her hip. Her stance relaxed some but took on a vaguely defensive note. Or maybe it was the way she emphasized the word 'we'. Naruto felt his mouth twitch reflexively in response. She hadn't seemed deterred by it, maybe just a little amused.

 

"You didn't mean to catch Sakura here, did you?" asked Ino, in a knowing sort of tone.

 

Naruto shook his head slowly and turned his gaze to the ground.

 

"Well, where were you headed?"

 

"Hokage tower," he answered. His mouth, as usual, had a mind of it's own.

 

"Right. Of course," she nodded briskly and motioned for him to walk alongside her. "It's a good thing too, because you look a wreck."

 

"Thanks," he scoffed, dragging his feet.

 

"Lucky, you," she continued smilingly, "showing up in time for our celebration."

 

Naruto folded his arms once more; it seemed the only appropriate way to obscuring his tattered clothes and filthy appearance from being too obvious. Konoha smelled crisp and fresh, Ino's scented shampoo was a deep contrast to his own depravity. While there was nothing to be done for it he still felt slightly embarrassed.

 

"Everyone will be surprised to see you I expect," she smirked at him over her shoulder. He felt momentarily like she was keeping something from him, or rather speaking about something of particular interest. Something he should have been able to pick up on but was too thickheaded to already know. He glanced down at the garment bag that swayed back and forth in her right hand. He noted the familiar texture and patches and frowned in thought, trying to place where he'd last seen their like.

 

"So, maybe you should clean up, okay?" laughed Ino, stopping a short distance away at a crossing where students recently let out of school were chasing each other with Origami-Shuriken. Naruto regarded the children distractedly. They seemed innocent enough, if not a little rambunctious. It hadn't been long ago when he had been just as young, if not more so. It felt like a hell of a lot more than just three years. Ino watched them veer off down the street and turn the corner, her expression a little wistful. The free hand wrapped around her waist, sliding alongside her -hitae-ate- revealed her thoughts weren't too far off from his own. She may have smelled cleaner and stood straighter but she too had grown up to quickly because of the way of life they had chosen. There wasn't regret, just sympathy for the next generation of ninjas all the trials sure to come with it. They too would live up to their choices just as they would suffer from their mistakes.

+

"Hello?" asked Ino, waving a hand in front of his eyes. He blinked and she came back into focus. He didn't know whether it was the expanse of land looking so sublime and peaceful behind her or the prettiness that held her warrior's features in an expression of concern, but it all felt very dream-like suddenly.

 

"I need to head home," she pointed in the direction of a flower shop in the opposite direction. Naruto's gaze followed her gesture, while he recognized the street corner and the name of the place, he suddenly felt like stranger. He could see that there was a sunny white and yellow placemat on the doorstep that read 'welcome', it had a wreath of pansies embroidered into it. He had no doubt that Ino was going to wipe her feet on it even though her sandals only had the vaguest film of dust settling at the tip.

 

"Big-forehead girl is waiting over at my place. I just popped over to grab a fixed outfit," she explained. "I'd welcome you to come by later but...you really might want to take a shower... or seven." She smiled awkwardly; like Naruto's oafish behavior was familiar and therefore acceptable. He wondered if the blood really bothered all that much or was it just obligatory for a girl to point out a boy's shortcomings. After all, Sakura-chan had always been eager to pipe up about his failings--

 

"Nah," replied Naruto forcefully, suddenly finding his voice. Uncomfortably he started back the way he had come. Ino blinked at him in surprised and watched his back as he made to leave.

 

"I'll tell her you-y-you're going the wrong way," she called out after him.

 

Naruto hadn't heard a word she said. Sure he recognized the shape and sound of a girl he used to know, but suddenly everything seemed too different and strange. The more he thought about Sakura-chan the quicker his pace picked up.

 

The last time he had seen her she had her back to the sun and glowed in its rays(1). She smiled at him and promised a promise of a lifetime. She had only been thirteen and had had her heart torn apart and pieced together more times than any one should, especially a child. It was a thundering realization to know she was as close as a few feet, unaware of the changing world, celebrating life and friends. Over the years he had dreamed up endless scenarios of what his return to Konoha. Covered in filth and reeking of death had not been among them. His mind flurried over what it might have been like, if he opened the door and he discovered her discontented too, just like him. Or worse yet, summer fresh of springtime clean like Ino had been. If he showed up in his current state, it would bring everything to a crashing end. That seemed more treacherous and likely. He couldn't bring himself to rob her of her normalcy. While it was to much to expect things to remain the same he wasn't ready to let go of the past. He had unfinished business, something deep inside of him had been unsettled and he needed to piece it together. For once he couldn't blame it on the demon-fox.

 

A delicate and strong grip wrapped around his shoulder and spun him back around. Ino glared at him, her pink mouth parted and breathless and her face slightly flush at the obvious exertion it took for her to catch up to him.

 

"Baka-Naruto, didn't you hear me," she demanded, looking unduly annoyed "I said 'you are going the wrong way'."

 

"Ino, listen. I need a favor," he said, and his voice carried a certainty he hadn't felt since he had first seen Sasuke in the bar the night before.

 

She was attentive and her expression vaguely concerned while she lent him the ink and paper to write a note. She hadn't meant to read it but he used her forearm to steady himself while he scratched out the words.

 

-"Dear Sakura-Chan, I'm sorry."-

 

He wrote in a sloppy scrawl and folded it unevenly a number of times. In some way they both knew it needn't be signed, Sakura would certainly know.

 

"Give this to her," he instructed, meaningfully.

 

Ino nodded and while taking the paper from his hand she held on longer than necessary. He stared down at the connection. His fingers trembled in her grip, his hands were soiled and hers pristine, yet she didn't slacken her hold. She looked just as sympathetic as she had when she watch the academy students race passed her, and she smiled just kindly when she finally took the note from him and promised to deliver it.

 

That done, he felt nothing binding him to Konoha, and he jumped up to the rooftops and ran full speed toward the front gate. It was only due to his keen hearing that he was able to make out Ino's last words.

 

"Good Luck."

 

It sounded like a curse as well as a wish. He took it as both.

 

+

 

Footnotes:
(1)Naruto and Sakura last see each other in his hospital room after his near death battle with Sasuke. For the most part this fic will be primarily manga!canon based kids, which means no random missions before the three-year time jump.