Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Nothing To Say ❯ Nothing To Say ( Chapter 1 )

I Can't Say Anything - There's Nothing to Say

 

I can't talk much about myself because most of my life is classified. Most of my experiences are locked away in dusty cabinets labeled `Classified. DO NOT OPEN!'

 

I can't talk about experiences as a kid - because I never really had a group to hang out with - and I never had time for the ice cream shop or the ramen stand.

 

It's kind of boring talking about it - most days I would spend the morning meditating and doing physical training and the afternoon, after a short lunch break, would be spent doing genjutsus and ninjutsus.

 

My father tried to be there - but often missions had him away for long periods of time. My mother had died birthing me and there are no photographs of her and I - or my father and I.

 

In fact, if you entered the old place, there'd be no pictures to find of my parents together - I think my father stashed them away in his extreme grief.

 

Maaaa….. I guess I shouldn't complain - because my tutors were the best.

 

No. I can't talk of much to you since there isn't much to talk of. Unless you want to know about my tutors and the length of my life I spent in preparation.

 

When I was two, I was given dull shuriken to throw around. Every morning, they would play tapes which I guess I slowly understood over time.

 

By the time I was four, I was studying - how to write, how to draw maps, how to make seals and how to go to the potty.

 

No wonder I was ready for academy so early. I guess you could say I had no life.

 

There were times I remember walking by the playgrounds after a hard day's work of training. My tutors were always yelling at me to hurry up - but I always slowed down when I passed the park.

 

My father said that playing at the park was a waste of time. I agreed with him but in my heart of hearts, I guess I really did want to get up there and swing around.

 

I could talk about the day I became a Genin. That was a red letter day, I guess, and not too bloody to elaborate on.

 

I was - five, then - and too quiet since I realized that my father wasn't going to be at home to congratulate me. He hadn't made it to the ceremony which meant he hadn't been able to come home. And so, I walked home alone and, as usual, passed the park, where all the kids were congregated, out of school, hanging out - with their mothers or nannies keeping half an eye on them.

 

I peered through the chain link fence, wondering, for a second, what it would be like to just try to build one of those sand houses in the large box.

 

One little purple-haired girl started to throw sand at a little boy with pale skin and a light cough. Another boy with a chestnut pony-tail jumped in between.

 

“Tha's not nice, Anko! `top tha' at once! Yo' hurtin' `Yate do'in that!”

“Hahaha!” giggled the girl slyly - she pouted. “BAD `RUKA!”

“Now, now,” her mother said, lifting the girl away as her daughter started to hit the older child over the head with her trowel. “Be nice, Anko and stop hitting Iruka, dear. He's right, you know….”

Anko turned to her older friend, a quiet smiling girl with pinkish hair.

“Rin! Rin! Rin! Play!”

 

“'Yate! `top that!” Iruka pulled Hayate's hand down trying him to stop the little two-year-old from eating sand. “Ewww!!! Nasty!”

“My, my,” Gekkou-san smiled, lifting her infant from the box and trying to wipe his mouth clean. “Your son is quite the scold!”

“I'm so sorry,” Iruka's mom sighed. “He's just…. It's something that comes natural to him - the other day, I caught him trying to teach the dog how to meditate.”

The women laughed.

 

Well…. Okay… maybe the sandbox wish is kind of dumb but there were other things to do and lots of other kids to play with - and memories of that kind are few and far in between.

 

“I'm going to kill you, Gai!” shrieked a huge, ferocious six-year old. “When I catch you, I'm going to make you feel so much pain, you're going to wish you're dead!”

“Hahaha! Catch me if you can!” The thick eyebrow kid with a bad haircut, raced away, followed by his nemesis and another guy with thick brown hair.

“Asuma!” wailed a red-eyed girl. Asuma stopped running. “I need a push!”

Asuma jogged over to the swings and pushed the girl several times.

“Boy, you're whipped! Asuma and Kurenai sittin' in a tree,” chanted an ashen-haired boy with a stir stick in his mouth. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

Gai stopped.

“Asuma, is this true? Yosh! Way to go!” he chinged his teeth at the couple, who winced.

 

I winced too.

 

“Got you!” yelled Gai's nemesis, holding the boy up.

“Let him go, Ibiki,” drawled another kid who was reading a book. “He's not worth your time.”

“You always say that, Ebisu.”

“Well, it's the smart way.”

“You know where you can shove you smart way?”

“Ibiki!” gasped Rin.

“Ibiki!” gasped several mothers.

The Morino nanny smacked the boy upside the head. Genma laughed and nearly choked on his stir stick.

“Where did you get that?” shrieked his mother, confiscating the offending object.

“Ummmm….”

“Raidou?”

“I don't know….” Raidou trailed off, his lie most obvious.

“Shiranui-san,” Iruka smiled, sweetly.

“Oh no,” his mother sighed. “Here we go.”

“I saw Gen - Gen - Genma-san ta'e it frum thewe. I don' tink tha's righ', yeah?”

He pointed at a garbage can.

“GENMA!!!!” screeched his mother.

The eight-year old winced as his mother blasted away his ear drums and cuffed him on the head.

“GO WASH OUT YOUR MOUTH NOW!!!!”

“'Ruka,” hissed Genma venomously. “You are so dead.”

Iruka's lip began to quiver and his eyes started to fill up with tears.

Anko wobbled over and stomped Genma on his foot.

“BAD GENNA!!!! BAD! HATE YOU!!!!”

“Ow! Ow! Owie!!!!”

“Anko!” Raido jumped up. “Stop that this instant!”

 

Looking at them, I couldn't help but laugh - I was so much older, wasn't I? I would NEVER behave like that! I was a five-year-old Genin.

 

Aaaa… well…. Perhaps this growing thing is overrated - and although I laughed at them then, remembering their antics, remembering their budding personalities, I can't help but feel indulgent.

 

After all, Iruka remains to this day a caregiver and a scold, Ibiki still enjoys giving people pain - sadistic bastard -, Genma is still orally fixated, Raido still his best friend, Anko still a scary little girl, Asuma and Kurenai still together….. Gai has his Gai-ness and Ebisu his nerdiness.

 

And I was….. nobody.

 

Just the small weird kid, who lived as the Hyuuga do, in his own world, looking down at them from beyond the chain link fence. I'm not surprised that they thought I was a pain in the arse, quirky guy on the block.

 

“Who's that?” asked Gai, pointing at the small boy watching them with cold eyes behind the chain link fence.

“Shhh… Gai! It's not nice to point!”

“It's that Hatake kid,” Genma frowned.

“That thing on his forehead - is that - ?” Ebisu looked up and frowned.

“Who cares?” shrugged Rin, and grinning happily, stuck her tongue out at the solemn boy.

He stared back shocked.

Nobody had ever treated him with such disrespect.

 

“Yeah…. He must have passed the Genin exam today.” Kurenai sighed.

Her older sister had just passed last year and Kurenai daydreamed about the day she and Asuma would both go into the Academy together - and then be put on the same team and then eventually staying together forever…..

 

“Hey! Hey! Watch me!” Iruka yelled, wobbing across some of the monkey bars.

“Iruka! I think you should come down,” Ebisu said calmly. “You aren't supposed to walk on those - you swing from them.”

“Geez, Iruka! Get off the damn bars!” Genma growled, hoping in his heart of hearts that the kid would fall.

“Tum down, `ruka! Tum play wi' me!” whined Anko.

“Hey! Hey! I can do that too!” Gai said, trying to scramble up. Ibiki pulled him away.

“Get down, Iruka!” he shouted. “You're too small for that!”

 

Iruka's mom was too busy talking sushi with Shuranui-san to realize what her young son was up to. Hayate banged his spoon against his buggy and chanted. “Ka-sa! Ka-saa!”

 

Kurenai stopped swinging and Asumo ran over.

“Get down, `Ruka, `fore you fall down!”

Iruka decided to walk even further. He wanted to show off his new balancing skills.

 

I guess in a sense, all his life Iruka needs saving. Mostly due to his naivete, his sense of justice, his political incorrectness, his need for perfection. I don't know. But sometimes, he just asks for it, if you take my meaning.

 

Like that time he had the gall to speak up about my nomination of Team 7 for the Chuunin Exam. He was just asking to be shot down.

 

Anyway, as usual, I could just see it. I was over the fence in a flash.

 

I made it just in time, too.

 

Every kid could see it coming - they all set up a wail as Iruka slipped and fell over sideways. Genma can still remember the billow of sand as a blur past him at super sonic speed.

 

All the mothers rushed forward wailing - and then froze as the dust settled.

 

Iruka was safely swinging from the double grip of the young weird Hatake brat - who hung upside down - the soles of his feet securely attached to the bars with chakra.

 

Iruka's mom charged forward and in between whacking her son, she apologized effusively toward the young white-haired boy.

 

All the other kids grouped around.

 

“Why do you have that?” asked Kurenai. “Did you really pass?”

The young, white-haired boy shyly nodded, twisting his hands around and around the edge of his black tunic.

“Wow!” cooed the Morino nanny. “You see that, Ibiki-san? You can be just like that, too! If you study harder.”

Ebisu and Genma loomed over the five-year-old prodigy.

“You got a team? A team actually took you on?” asked Ebisu, unbelievingly.

“You're like - what? Three years old?”

“Five.”

“Whatever.”

Genma pouted. He wanted to enter the Academy so bad but his mother was making him wait another year.

“Can - can - can I jus' weaw it fo' a bit?” asked Iruka.

“Iruka!”

“No. Babies and idiots don't wear these - only people who act like good shinobi.”

The new Genin turned away. “You wanna be a good shinobi?”

Iruka nodded eagerly.

“Don't be an idiot. Climbing those bars is stupid. Run. Do some kick exercises or something.”

“Geez!” Genma said. “You've got no life, you know that?”

 

“Who's the Genin?” I countered, stung.

 

I guess I'm still stung today. Because, even nowadays, I still have no real `life'.

 

I trained as a Genin alone, until there came a day when my young sensei told me that I was nominated for the Chuunin exam.

 

There was a lot riding on it.

 

I could feel it in my father's gaze. His friend, Jiraiya-sama's leery smile. In my sensei's proud look.

 

I could hear it in the adult's talk - when they thought I couldn't hear.

 

“It's all to do with connections. Sakumo and Jiraiya - old drinking buddies - pressure Jiraiya's old student - well, really just a boy - to send the boy in….”

“Pretty obvious.”

“Sad.”

“He's going to die….”

“I've got some money on him though….”

“Backed both ways, I hope?”

“He saved my boy at the playground.”

“Playground is one thing - Akagahara is another.”

 

My writing was still rather hard to read - they had to give me paper with bigger spaces for me to write.

Thanks to those tapes and my father's talks, I knew some stuff.

 

Other stuff, I didn't know.

 

I ended up pulling the old baby trick. Funny how those Chuunins fold under watery eyes and quivering baby lips.

 

One reason why I got a mask.

 

“I need to go pee!!!!”

“Eh?”

“I need to go peeeee!!!!”

The examiner rolled his eyes.

It was that kid who was too young to take the exam.

“Take him to the bathroom, please,” the examiner nodded at one of the examiners.

Kakashi was helped off the large chair and out to the bathroom.

Following the chuunin marker down the hallway, Kakashi hid a clone while he and the examiner went into the washroom.

A minute later….

“Ummm…..” The young boy peered around the stall. “I've got a pwobwem!”

The chuunin sighed and placing his clipboard down, walked into the stall to help Kakashi wipe his little bum properly, pull up his pants and button them.

Staring at the puddle on the floor, he sighed.

 

Since when did wiping up a little brat's spill become part of a chuunin's job?

 

“Wait right there!” He said. “Don't move!”

Kakashi never moved. He watched as his clone wrote out the answers onto a scrap of small paper and laid the little millimeter scroll with the napkin dispenser. After he washed his hands, Kakashi managed to lift the scroll and was escorted safely back to the room.

 

Nobody even noticed me opening it.

 

I guess that's what's good about being small and being in the center of the desks. Nobody could see me except for the top of my head - I basically had to write, standing up. Nobody thought I'd do something so stupid… but I guess you could say that's the Naruto side of me.

 

That part of me that is more like my dad than I want to admit.

 

“So, Kakashi, I'm going to teach you the first lesson!”

(Naruto….)

“Taijutsu!”

(I pull out my Icha Icha Paradise book, volume one: Flirting)

“Let's start!”

(I end up behind Naruto - as expected - and I form the tiger seal over the binding of the book.)

“KONOHA'S SECRET TAIJUTSU: A THOUSAND YEARS OF PAIN!”

 

I had gone flying through the trees and landed rather far away - tears in my eyes at the accompanying butt ache. I was sure that nobody had ever been humiliated like that before and for once I was glad I did not train with a group of friends or peers.

 

For them to know how perverted and wacky my dad was would have been too embarrassing.

 

It's too bad that none of those memories are ever really portrayed anywhere. People remember my father as a dead body on the floor. A suicide in the study.

 

I guess I could say that he is forever remembered as a number one coward who failed at his mission and his life. And from then on, I was remembered as the son of the number one coward. I guess our antecedents, our failing house and even my name didn't really help my reputation.

 

But after finding father in the study - I learned one thing - that pain is a part of life and that life's tenuous grip is only as strong as you can make it.

 

All the trash that cluttered my mind from that day forward has slowly been clearing out over the years - but still, finding a sword in your father's gut never leaves you.

 

Of course, dying isn't really a big thing for me anymore. For many, it is a chance to escape what can be a harsh place.

 

I remember the three genins who died in Akagahara.

 

Perhaps it was because I was so short, but all of the high traps and missiles always flew overhead - missing me most of the time. And because I was so short, my eyes were that much closer to the ground and to the hidden traps which feet are so prone to spring.

 

Teachers never could totally see whether their charges did okay - but I was able to deceive several genin and escape on my short legs out of there before they realized they were dealing with a kage buunshin.

 

Most times, I could walk past my opponents and they wouldn't notice me - the bushes and foliage were much taller than me. And the ones who were actually good, didn't want to lose their honour by taking out a small brat like myself.

 

As it was, I made it to the field of red clover - but not before stumbling over the cold body of a genin - there was no mistaking it. The kunai in the throat. He had been killed a while back. Already the body was becoming pliant instead.

 

Of course, later on, the one on ones really taxed me. We only had two weeks to prepare and my father and sensei really did their best.

 

In the end, I managed to come in `second' with much distinction and I hoped that the Urmino hadn't backed me both ways. I was carried home and fed my favorite meal (after my cuts and fractures were attended to). For once, my father pulled out his pipe and gave us a song, Jiraiya danced this weird toad dance and even Tsunade came by for a drink or two - or ten.

 

Even then, I don't have a photograph.

 

After that, there were the moments which I can sort of call a peace time in my life. A short span - only a few years - and it was commemorated by a picture - which I prize above all.

 

Him. Above us all, his hands weighing down on Obito's head and mine. His eyes are shut in that everlasting grin, his blonde hair as wild and spiky as ever. Even when he died, they said he was still grinning and his hair was still wild. But then - that's him. The mark of my sensei. Yondaime.

 

Then there's Obito. The picture is really only an image. He's laughing but it isn't true - because inside, he hurt at my cutting remarks and he was naïve. He cried all the time, too, and made up stupid excuses for being late and for taking life so lightly. In a way, the picture is utopia, since it doesn't show his fully developed Sharingan eyes, the way blood trickled from his mouth as he lay pinned underneath the rock, the smile on his face when he gave me a gift beyond all price - a gift from the greatest heart in the whole Uchiha clan.

 

In between us is Rin. She's happy, too. In those days, I guess we were all happy in our own different ways. Too bad time couldn't let us be.

 

Damn time. Damn it to hell.

 

Well… Rin was the most broken, the most worn down - perhaps it should have been her under the boulder. Life for her was tortuous - a cage, for she was a captive - caught with a boy who could never return her love because he never felt it. Death didn't come to quick for her - and when I held her in my arms, I felt so sorry - life had been bittersweet for kind-hearted Rin.

 

Then, on the other side, I stood. Glaring at the photographer, wishing no doubt I could kill. You could see the death mark of duty on my face - the stubbornness and the sarcasm. Isolation is there - I guess it is still there - that masked part of me, trying to hide from the world my youth and the look of innocence.

 

It's odd how people pair beauty with innocence, naivete and simpleness. Before the mask, the mothers and fathers would gasp and sigh. My fellow mates at the Academy would laugh and call me `girly' and `baby boy'.

 

I changed all that. And later on, as the years rolled by. Obito left the picture. Rin left the picture. My sensei left the picture until I stood alone, with a mask and a tilted hitae ate to hide my special eye.

 

I grew. And that's where the classified files come in.

 

I don't talk about it much.

 

But the story can be found in the black ink on my forearm - the swirls of the ANBU tattoo - a mark which designates killer and killing.

 

That was a time when I had to wear two masks - where I had two people trying to hide - as if it were some complicated genjutsu - the real me. There was the shinobi hiding the boy and the assassin hiding the shinobi.

 

When it was night and I was facing some enemy who I was fighting to the death with for no good reason that I knew of, I was glad for the ANBU Hound mask, because nobody would find out that it was me who drove his hand through the body. It wasn't me who time and time again pushed his own hand through the heart of his opponent.

 

My teammates - Genma, Raido, Ibiki, Gai - would sigh about the men who died at their hands - but for me, that was the literal truth.

 

For me, that IS the literal truth.

 

In that instant, you saw me reflecting a picture of that time, when I stood there, before Zabuza, with my arm encased in bone, blood and flesh - an amalgam which once was called Haku.

 

Aaaaa…. Well….. it isn't often for one to see the resurrection of a monster. I could say that this one is misunderstood - but to be truthful, the day I left the ANBU was the day I emerged from denial.

 

For there was no denying it.

 

Why did I leave, Gai?

 

It wasn't from fear. Not really. It wasn't from disgust. Although that was part of it. It wasn't from stress. Something which happens to anybody.

 

It was because I knew.

 

I knew I was beginning to enjoy it. I enjoyed the hunt, the chase, the fight and the inevitable death of my target. I enjoyed the way they tried to escape my web - and I sat there and copied their techniques - the better ones to use on their comrades or other unlucky targets.

 

The only thing which kept me from a world of insanity was a wall of porcelain about an inch thick.

 

Because you see, the monster isn't me. And when all is said and done, and the mask comes off, when the mask is stashed away - there is me. Well, that part of me that you are allowed to see (item: one grey eye, one bushy mane, one mask).

 

To take it off would mean something more. I don't know what. For, although we are teammates, and I would never let you guys die, I never said we were friends.

 

Heh, well…. Good luck with the whole unmasking business. `Cause it's not coming off anytime soon.

 

I am sure though, one day, I will fall as all those before me have done. And on my pier, my face will be there for all to see - and what will you see?

 

Even I don't know myself.

 

Then, when I left ANBU - and that caused a fuss - the Hokage made me put my name down for the sensei list.

 

And once again, I saw stupid child after stupid child pass through my life. I don't really remember their names - they stayed with me for only a day before returning back to the Academy.

 

But there came that day, when at that time of year (once again) I strolled into the classroom, late yet again, to find a chalkboard eraser falling and a very odd team. Not that I wasn't expecting that - I had enough prep work to know that it was Naruto who had pulled the prank, Sakura who had enjoyed it and Sasuke who scorned my embarrassed position.

 

“Maaa….. how shall I say this? My first impression of you guys…” I pause for emphasis. “I hate you.”

 

I just loved seeing their cute faces fall.

 

Then I had to go through the whole routine of listening to them and their characters.

 

Of course, they tried to find out about me. But long ago, I had learned how to turn away interest and pointed questions.

 

Naruto. Blonde, wacky kid who loved ramen and wanted to be the Hokage.

 

Sakura. Pink-haired, dreamy girl who loved Sasuke and no other thing - especially hating Naruto, though.

 

Sasuke. Black haired, angsty child who had no goals but to kill his brother.

 

Not really a surprise.

 

No. the surprise was that they passed - they figured out the whole importance of being on a team - and once again, there was a photograph to mark another epoch.

 

It's different now - and kind of weird.

 

Because the sensei is myself. Mask and all, visible eye curved in a grin, hands on Naruto and Sasuke, who are separated by Sakura.

 

Sasuke - the prodigy - like myself, is very much in a sulk and is busy glaring at Naruto.

Naruto, like Obito, is encouraging the rivalry but seems to be over all okay. Sakura, like Rin, is in between, making peace and giving balance to the team.

 

And here it stands above my bed, next to my other team picture, my Icha Icha series, the alarm clock and my bamboo plant.

 

So….. over all…. I don't think I really ought to complain.

 

It just that you complain that you don't know me. But really - who really wants to know about the hard, dark side of the shinobi life?

 

I wouldn't.

 

But I never really knew about it - it just came naturally to me.

 

And before I knew it, my life ended up in files and cabinets and in the annals, and it is all bound up with the names of the dead on a memorial.

 

That's why I go there a lot. Those names are memories - more real than non-existent photographs.

 

At least, for now.

 

There is always the future of us.

 

Now, that's something to talk about.