Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Small Gods ❯ Conscience Contemplation ( Chapter 5 )

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

Author's Note: as may be duly noted, my writing style is sometimes stilted with formality. This has been commented on, much to my concern. I shall try to simplify in in the future, though such changes in text and structure are...difficult at best to obtain.

‘Laziness is the parent of all stagnation and weakness.’
Oh no, he wasn’t going to fall for this.
‘…stagnation and weakness.’
No, he was not going to let his conscience guilt trip him.
‘…weakness.’
Dammit! He was not!
‘Laziness is the parent of all stagnation and weakness. These are the seeds of destruction. A single blade of wind can cut the mountains to sand. Sharpen your claws or I will use mine.’
“ALL RIGHT! I get the message.”
A few hours of debating with himself had brought Naruto to this…Standing at the edge of a cliff trying to decipher the meaning of the anonymous note.
‘Laziness makes weakness,’ okay he could deal with that. Just work twice as hard as usual!
‘Seeds of destruction,’ well no surprise there, if you didn’t train you were food for the fish.
‘Wind cuts the mountain,’ now that was confusing. Wind just blew things around, not like his Rasengan which actually blew things to smithereens. Just making it had been a hassle. Over two thousand shadow clones trying cut one simple leaf in half with chakra. And after that he’d had to cut and entire waterfall! It had been one of the singularly most exhausting experiences of his life. In the end it had come down to a 24 hour crunch because the Akatsuki had already been on their way to him. It was something he didn’t particularly like remembering. Oh the results were fantastic but…what he had done to gain that strength, he could barely forgive.
Loss of control in the Kyuubi had spelled disaster and, when it had happened he felt his mind begin to crumble at the edges before all memory faded. When Naruto awoke from that nightmare, it was to a devastated wasteland that made the Northern Desert look like a paradise. Still he had perfected the Rasengan, something the Yondaime had never achieved. All with his own chakra, and not the Kyuubi’s. Starting the day he gained that ability, he swore on his own blood that he would never again use the Kyuubi’s chakra for any reason. He would suppress it. It was a difficult thing once he got used to the limited amount; but, over the years it had stretched with his growth, now almost equal in measure with the monster within. Almost, but not quite. He still had a little while to go, a little more stretching to do.
The Northern Desert was perfect.
Here there was, it seemed, limitless space to do whatever he wished. He reminded himself that only with great effort came great results. Something he had learned over time was that even the silliest seeming of exercises can bring about and advantage, if you take them seriously. Naruto was out here, on his own so he had to make his own exercises, his own discipline. He started with a run, nothing works out right if you don’t limber up a bit first. Across the arid plateaus he ran, jumping the clefts that appeared here and there. There were scrimpy shrubs clinging to the rocks, wind blasted survivors of violence and time. There were no leaves.
Naruto’s bandaged feet stamped the ground regularly in a rhythmic pace. They were just another reminder that while he felt alone, he wasn’t, in more ways than one. Suna was not far from the Northern Desert, about a half a day’s walk. The Kyuubi within was always growling at the edge of his consciousness, waiting for a moment to assert its dominance. And then there was the mysterious no one, who had given him fresh supplies, and bandaged his feet. It made no sense to him. ‘Wind cuts the mountain,’ maybe if he blasted away the plateau with a Rasengan, but that was destruction, pure and simple. Nothing clean about it.
There had been no poison in the food and water the person had left for him. His wounds were healed, and other than that there was nothing to speak of besides the note. That note…It was disturbing in a way. Certainly it had been a surprise to find it there, pinned to his pack, but the contents were far stranger. ‘Wind cuts the mountain.’ Naruto’s running slowed as he considered the note and then it struck him. Ice filled his veins and the hair stood up on the back of his neck. The one thing he had disregarded in the note. The very first line, and the most important one. Why had he not seen it before?
‘To the fox.’
Naruto had completely stopped still in his tracks.
“They know what I am…” He whispered.
The Jinchurriki of Konoha.

Darkness found Naruto exhausted and worn to bits. A new tear had formed in his robes. It left the fabric from the right shoulder down flapping free of the frayed stitching. Naruto had ripped the rest of the offending material away and folded it into his bag. Perhaps with the rope he had saved he could make something of the cloth. It was still useful, he was sure…
Naruto was trying, as hard as he dared, to keep his thoughts as mundane as possible. Otherwise he was quite sure he would go completely and irrevocably mad. His earlier discovery about the nature of the note had taken its toll on his consciousness. Was this person a member of the Akatsuki!? What were they? With shock, he had learned a few years back, he was highly susceptible to the will of the Kyuubi. It was only by great fortune in the previous day that he did not lose control of his mind when running from the storm. Thank you Lady Luck.
High emotion, instinct and sense triggered the loosening of his precarious hold on the Kyuubi’s actions. Of late it had been getting harder, until the maniacal will scuttling its way under his thoughts was no longer as muted as it had once been. This is why he had to, he must reign in control of the demon. Thankfully Gaara also understood this feeling, and what it meant. There was no favor in the living for those that remind them of the dead, and an uneasy Naruto was the last thing Konoha needed to see.
Nervous sleep crept into his eyes, heavy lidded as they were. It was a long time before blank rest was afforded to his scattered mind.

The plateau was visited again, that midnight, by someone in the dark. They stayed long and watched with careful consideration. There was much to be done, and little time for doing. But for now, let the weary rest. Many long days would come, there would be time enough---for this one.
‘Dreamless sleep, in the night deep, far -- so far from home.
Troubled are the heroes of men, the smaller gods of Rome.’