Eternal Yujin
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TCoH—Chapter 3.36 [59]
🕑 Added 2025-05-02 21:12:31 +0000 UTC- - -
Chapter 3.36 [59]
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Given what had transpired, I’d steadily grown sick of the monotonous journey back home. Granted, it was just less than a week’s travel back to the Leaf Village on foot for shinobi, but even that seemed torturously long for me. I could feel every moment wasted with an intensity that was only previously a muted thrumming in the back of my skull.
Generally ignorable—but not anymore. Which was why, on the last day of our journey, I woke up before everyone else. We’d arrived at a post station around a day’s travel from the village the night before
“Kosuke,” I whispered to the toad I’d summoned.
Outside, the sun was just barely rising. Jiraiya's snores were as loud as always and we were still an hour off the agreed time to meet for breakfast. I’d managed to get my hands on some instant ramen that night before I’d wolfed down. It wasn’t the most healthy of meals, but it would do.
“I know,” the red, goggle-wearing toad replied. “So long as you’ve got more of those snacks for me to chow down on, I don’t mind hanging about.”
“Perfect. The journey should be all day, so if you need to bring me back so I can renew your summoning, I don’t mind.”
Nodding, Kosuke took his station atop my bed where my copy of Tale of the Utterly Gutsy Shinobi lay on the bedside table. I looked around, feeling the inside pockets of my flak jacket. The spare packs of ramen I had were still there, but convincing Shima to let me eat the ramen instead of her bug-based cuisine would be a tall order. The best I could do was eat the ramen in tandem with the bugs.
…I just hoped the seasoning packs would make things easier on me.
The world flipped from top to tail. The dark, aged wooden beams had, in an instant, shifted to the brighter tan-like earth of Mount Myoboku. After just barely keeping my slapdash breakfast down, I righted myself in mid-air and fell into a crouch before Fukasaku, who was rolling up the contract scroll.
“This is quite early for training, Naruto-boy. Is everything alright?”
I burped and then grimaced. “Sorry to impose, sir, but it’s important. I can’t delay learning senjutsu any longer. An organisation of S-rank ninja have begun capturing Jinchuuriki and we barely fought two of them off yesterday.”
Fukasaku frowned. “That’s certainly worrying, but I’m afraid you will not take to senjutsu as easily as you think you will.”
“I’m not saying it’ll be easy,” I replied. “But if I don’t begin now, I’m not sure the Akatsuki will give me the time needed. No one even knows what they want to use the Tailed Beasts for either.”
“Long ago, there were three orphans from a war-torn country. Jiraiya happened upon them; they asked for training. He stayed for some years and did as asked. When he left, they created an organisation of the same name, pursuing peace in their country.”
I frowned, already knowing the answer to the question I was about to ask: “What happened to them?”
“They died before they could achieve their goal, and their organisation died with them.” Fukasaku shook his head sadly.
I stood up. “He’s been investigating them to see if they share more than a name, right?”
“Any who would seek to capture the Tailed Beasts would be foolish to say that they wish for peace. Their similarities begin and end with that name—but enough of that. You have come here to learn senjutsu, yes?”
“Yes, sir.”
Fukasaku smiled. “Then today shall be an introduction. Come, let us walk as we discuss.”
Without waiting for my reply, Fukasaku ascended my body in one agile leap and landed atop my head. Strangely, he wasn’t as heavy as I expected him to be—I barely even felt his weight in my nape.
“Ordinary chakra—though even calling it ordinary is inaccurate, for the sake of simplicity, I will refer to it as such,” he began. “In any case, ordinary chakra is one part mental energy and one part physical energy mixed together. Using this chakra is what fuels ninjutsu, correct?”
I resisted the urge to nod, given that he was on top of my head. “Yes, sir.”
“Then, as the name suggests, nature energy, the key component of senjutsu… what do you think it is?”
“Energy that’s external to me?” I asked. “Like, out in the world?”
Fukasaku chuckled. “Outside in the world is exactly what it is.”
“Then, if I take in nature energy and incorporate it into the energy-mixing process, I’d get senjutsu chakra?”
“...That’s exactly right,” Fukasaku replied. “But you’re also wrong.”
“How so?” I asked.
Instead, Fukasaku hopped off my head, and as we ascended the crest of the hill we’d been ascending, we came upon a glistening waterfall surrounded by stone toads of various sizes. Except, I could tell immediately it wasn’t water—or even a solution. It clung to the rockface like syrup, crawling more than falling. The sound it made wasn’t a roar or a rush, but a low, viscous murmur, like something alive and pained shifting beneath its weight.
Fukasaku squinted. “That’s oil, pure and heavy.”
The air was dense with it. Acrid, choking, metallic. I could feel the weight of it on my skin already as if just being near was enough to start coating you in the stuff.
“The oil of our mountain will help you feel nature energy but it’s dangerous. Too much of it, and you will become stone.”
He let the words settle in the humid air.
“Is that what happened to all these statues?” I asked. “Because they took in too much nature energy?”
Fukasaku nodded, but with a thoughtful pause. “Yes. But more accurately—it’s the result of trying to take it in without changing yourself first.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“There’s a reason we call it senjutsu, Naruto-boy. It’s not just power. It’s a kind of wisdom. Senjutsu isn’t about commanding nature. It’s about joining it.” He crouched by the oil’s edge, dipping a toe in. The surface barely rippled. “You’re used to chakra that comes from inside you—your mind, your body. Even when you reach your limit, you dig deeper and pull harder. You impose your will.” He turned to glance at me. “But nature energy doesn’t yield to force.”
“So I can’t control it?”
“No. You can only harmonise with it.” Fukasaku stood again, wiping his webbed foot off on a patch of moss. “You must learn to empty yourself first. Let go of your self-image, your rushing thoughts, and your hunger for strength. Otherwise, the nature energy you absorb will overwrite you, just as it did with these statues. You’ll be like a flame poured into stone—frozen at your peak, unable to move forward.”
I didn’t respond right away. I’d heard something like this before. Kakashi had once said the Rasengan was power without shape, contained by control alone.
Fukasaku must’ve sensed my hesitation because he said, “Your human monks speak of ego as an illusion. They say the self is like a ripple in a pond—brief, ever-changing. Real strength comes when you stop mistaking the ripple for the whole pond.” He pointed toward the oilfall. “You’ll learn to feel nature's pulse. But to do that, you must still your own.”
“That sort of makes sense, but I’ve still got one more question,” I said as I stared at the descending stream of oil. “What is senjutsu? What’s Sage Mode?”
“Put simply, senjutsu is everything.” Fukasaku merely smiled at my frown. “Returning to our previous discussion, do you remember the process of creating senjutsu chakra?”
I nodded.
“Then it stands to reason that any jutsu you shinobi would use with said senjutsu chakra becomes senjutsu as well.”
“And Sage Mode?”
The old toad laughed. “It doesn’t truly exist, but it was simple enough of a term for me to use when teaching Jiraiya. Channelling nature energy results in physical changes—and the degree of said changes depends solely on one’s skill—but there is no such thing as Sage Mode; only the most optimum usage of senjutsu. Tell me, is there a Ninja Mode that you humans must enter before using your chakra for jutsu?”
I shook my head. “Then, does that mean Sage Mode is really just what using senjutsu looks like?”
“Exactly.”
“In that case, I have another question.”
Fukasaku smiled. “It may have not occurred to you, but I am here to answer those.”
“I’ve created a technique that isn’t complete. Or rather, I can’t call it complete because using it damages my chakra network. Would senjutsu be a way to stabilise it?”
“That depends on the technique,” he replied.
Stretching out my hand, I willed chakra to my palm and watched as a perfect sphere bloomed in its centre. Then, injecting just a hint of wind chakra into the Rasengan, I watched it vibrate with pure chaos. The revolving wind yearned to break free of my grip, but I confined it to the rotation in my hand.
Fukasaku watched in what I hoped was quiet fascination.
Slowly, I let the chakra fade. “I call it Wind-Release: Rasengan and, were I to use it on anything, it would cut into my hand as well as the pathways in said hand. I was wondering if there was a way to stabilise it with senjutsu.”
A long moment passed before Fukasaku answered, punctuated by the sloshing of the oilfall and the distant howl of the wind.
“So, you completed your father’s jutsu,” he said quietly before hopping down from the ledge separating the pool of oil and myself. “Well, I’ve decided upon an answer, in any case.”
“Which is?”
Fukasaku looked up at me. “I do not know. For you to acquire an answer, you’d have to see for yourself. Senjutsu, stripping the philosophy away and looking purely at its functions, provides an upgrade to all of one’s capabilities. Perhaps fashioning this jutsu of yours out of Senjutsu chakra will only make the backlash worse—but it may also be the key to completing your father’s work.”
I frowned—this was turning out to be more complicated than I thought it’d be.
“Regardless, only one question remains where you are concerned. Are you ready to start on the path to understanding?”
“I am.”
Fukasaku stepped aside. “Then sit upon the ledge and allow me to apply some oil to the back of your hand so we may begin. The oil of Mount Myoboku will teach you to perceive nature energy on your own by allowing it to enter your body.”
I did as asked, only for my arm to comically balloon in size—and just as quickly, Fukasaku brought down a paddle on my arm so hard that it left a deep crimson track on my skin.
“And to prevent you from turning into one of those statues, I shall beat it out of you. Today’s goal is for you to perceive nature energy—nothing more.”
Hissing, I watched my arm slowly return to its regular size and stared at him, because behind his kind smile, I saw the face of a demon. “Suddenly, I have a feeling I won’t be leaving this place whole.”
“Ah, how I’ve missed the sound of paddle against flesh.”
I eyed his weapon warily even as he applied the oil to my hand. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the slimy sensation of the oil on my left hand, the cool chill or something entering my body through it… only for the old toad to smash his paddle across my hand even faster than before.
———————————
As much as the Nine-Tails both scared and frustrated me, I couldn’t help but be grateful for the absolutely lovely healing factor I got in return for being his Jinchuriki. It meant that the aftermath of Fukasaku’s tender ministrations was totally healed by the time Kosuke summoned me back. Being able to sense the nature energy surrounding me was an… interesting experience. It was unlike anything I’d experienced before.
Fukasaku was right to say it was almost in direct opposition to chakra, an energy that mostly did nothing without my will. Nature energy, if I could compare it to anything, was like the fog on a cold winter’s morning or the steam from a piping hot kettle. I could stick my hand in the way, sure, but it’d just drift around me in such a way that it’d be a waste of energy to even try.
And despite my desire to experience it some more, I was nowhere near proficient at balancing it out with my physical and spiritual energy. But perceiving it was fair game and it was how I largely spent the last hour of the journey back to the Hidden Leaf.
My foot lurched and I snapped my eyes open to stumble myself back into balance along the path that the four of us were walking.
“Maybe keep your eyes open as you walk?” Jiraiya said from over his shoulder. “As cool as nature energy can be, you’re nowhere near moving about with your eyes closed.”
“How a pervert like you can even become one with nature is a miracle all on its own,” I said, not even trying to hide the irritation in my voice.
Ever since I got back, Jiraiya had decided that the most amusing use of his time was to make fun of me for skipping the majority of the journey to train.
“Lust is as natural as the sun and moon, kid. I’m just at peace with my youthful libido!”
Tsunade snorted but otherwise didn’t say much else as we trundled along. The village’s walls just about managed to rise above the trees in the distance and the sight had us up the pace by just a little bit until the gates were a towering thing of verdant green, and the gold-painted balconies stared down at us.
It was then that we caught sight of a figure waiting for us in the distance standing in front of the half-open gate.
“Danzo,” Jiraiya murmured beside me, his casual demeanour instantly replaced with a guarded tension.
He’d always been a peripheral figure in village politics, rarely showing himself publicly… though, not because it was his own choice, to my knowledge. With Lord Third’s death, the chains shackling Danzo to a life as a mere elder were gone.
The thought brought a frown to my face.
“What's he doing here?” Tsunade asked, frowning as well.
As we drew closer, I could make out more details. Behind him, I could see several ANBU guards positioned strategically at the gate—more than the usual security detail given the invasion had been a thing.
He could have kept them hidden, but he didn’t.
“Lady Tsunade,” Danzo spoke when we were within earshot with his voice carrying a false warmth that made my skin crawl. “Your return is most fortuitous. The village welcomes you, though perhaps not in the capacity you expected.”
Jiraiya stepped forward. “What are you talking about, Elder Shimura? Where are Elders Utatane and Mitokado?”
A cold smile stretched across the visible portion of Danzo's face. “I’m afraid Hiruzen’s old counsel and the other higher-ups have, in their wisdom, recognised that the village could not remain leaderless during these uncertain times.”
Tsunade started to speak slowly “So they sent you to greet us? How… thoughtful of them. Is my inauguration ceremony soon, then, or do I have time to settle in?”
“No, Lady Tsunade,” Danzo replied, that smile never reaching his exposed eye. “I came to greet you as the Fifth Hokage of the Hidden Leaf Village.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. Our mission—bringing Tsunade back to become the Fifth Hokage—had been rendered meaningless in an instant. I looked between Jiraiya and Tsunade, expecting explosive outrage, but their faces had gone carefully blank—the practised neutrality of shinobi who knew they were suddenly in not-so-friendly territory.
“That’s... unexpected,” Jiraiya finally said, his voice deceptively light. “The village made this decision without informing me given my mission?"
“Your mission to bring Lady Tsunade to the village was always going to be declared to you. Given the dire straits that we are in, we cannot spare a soul at the moment, I’m afraid," Danzo replied. “The ceremony was conducted three days ago. I would have preferred your presence, of course, but the village’s security concerns took priority.”
I couldn’t help myself. “But that’s—”
Jiraiya's hand landed firmly on my shoulder, silencing me mid-protest. The pressure of his fingers told me everything I needed to know: be quiet.
“Well then,” Tsunade said coolly, “we should offer our congratulations to the new Hokage.” But I could see the calculation in her eyes, the tension in her shoulders. This was a coup, dressed up in bureaucratic clothing.
Such an obvious grab for power that it left me itching with frustration because there was nothing any of us could do about it.
Danzo gestured toward the gate. “Please, enter. I’m sure you’re tired from your journey. We have much to discuss about the future of the Hidden Leaf. Chunin Uzumaki?”
I looked up at the mention of my name.
“Meet me in my office once you have dropped off your things. It has to do with the matter we discussed shortly before your mission.”
He left without waiting for my answer and his ANBU guard left with him—one of which wore a monkey-patterned mask that I recognised.
There was a long moment after he left where the four of us stood before the gate in silence. Tsunade, like a volcano waiting to erupt, was growing tenser by the moment while Shizune took half a dozen furtive glances in her direction.
“What did you talk to him about before our mission?” Jiraiya asked with a frown.
“Unrelated to this,” I replied. “It’s got to do with something from the Chunin Exams. Don’t worry about it.”
“...Okay. In any case, I want you to go ahead. Get yourself settled, see your friends and all that.” He threw his head over his shoulder for an instant before lowering his voice. “I’ll handle Tsunade.”
“So, what?” I whispered back. “There’s not a thing you can do about this?”
Jiraiya sighed. “What is there to do? Those old farts agreed with him, he somehow won over the jonin, the Daimyo signed off on it, and that’s that… but it could be worse.”
“Yeah?”
“Danzo’s a dark bastard, but he’s as loyal to the village as the old man was. He’s at least got that going for him.”
He was certainly loyal enough that he could excuse any atrocity given that it served his purposes. Still, with nothing else I could say to the contrary, I adjusted my backpack and walked on ahead with the resignation of someone slated for execution.
———————————
The pair of chunin guards usually standing outside the Hokage’s office were strangely absent when I arrived. They existed more as an intimidating presence than anything else; all the ANBU undoubtedly tucked into the rafters or hiding thanks to Jiraiya’s perverted ninjutsu were far stronger than any pair of chunin guards. But when the visitors to that office weren’t limited to shinobi, a pair of scary-looking ninja garbed in uniform did the job of quelling any potential headaches, I supposed.
It wasn’t as if Danzo needed that. His entire demeanour was terrifying. Besides, the lack of any visible human being in the corridor was doing wonders for my spiralling thoughts as I neared the door, and when my hand grasped the cold silver handle, I couldn’t help but wonder if his single hawk-like eye was pointed in my direction.
Fortunately, it wasn’t. Danzo seemed to instead be working through what looked like mission requests judging by the stamp positioned opposite the mountain of paper.
“Why don’t you try that again, Chunin Uzumaki,” he said without even looking up at me. “As tired as you may be after what was no doubt an arduous journey, you must comport yourself better.”
In all the nervousness about what our meeting would be like, I’d forgotten to knock, and while I didn’t care for Danzo’s opinion of me, I did it anyway.
After my knock went unanswered, I said, “May I come in, sir?”
“You may.” Limiting my frown to a curse inside my head, I walked until I was a few steps shy of the pair of chairs facing his desk. “Sit, Chunin Uzumaki. Despite your lapse in etiquette, it would be cruel of me to keep you standing.”
“Thank you.”
“Given your mission was a success, am I right in assuming it was a smooth ordeal?”
“Not exactly, sir. Jiraiya will likely include it in his report but there were several unforeseen elements in Tanzaku Town. To say the least of Orochimaru, we made contact with Itachi Uchiha and Kisame Hoshigaki of an organisation called the Akatsuki. Supposedly, their goal is to hunt the Jinchuriki, hence their presence.”
Danzo frowned but merely motioned that I continue instead of interrupting with whatever questions my explanation had wrought.
“The only reason we escaped is because the Akatsuki pair made contact with Orochimaru first. It seemed that, in his efforts to kill Orochimaru, Itachi Uchiha overextended himself. Between the four of us, we managed to push Kisame Hoshigaki into retreat for the time being.”
“Despite the missing details, I understand that Jiraiya will provide a far more detailed explanation,” Danzo said, his frown somehow deepening as he spoke. “While you will receive pay for the mission and it will go on your record as an A-rank escort mission, this is not what I summoned you to my office to discuss.”
“I’ve given the idea some thought,” I said amidst my futile effort to get comfortable in my chair. “Given that the only options are the ones you presented to me, sir, and the very real likelihood that she will commit suicide if the choice is left in her hands, I’ll do it.”
Then, Danzo did something that floored me completely—he smiled. “A soundly reasoned argument, Chunin Uzumaki.”
After I’d shaken off the significant unease the expression had brought out of me, I managed to grasp the tail of the Haku conversation before Danzo could lead me in another direction entirely.
“Sir, is there any news on Fuu’s whereabouts? Haku’s been in Leaf custody for a while now. I can’t imagine that she’s been the most cooperative, but I’m… concerned for Fuu.”
“As a fellow Jinchuriki?” Danzo asked.
“Something like that.”
He hummed. “Besides the confirmation that it was indeed Zabuza who took the Waterfall’s Jinchuriki, there is not much. The supposed safehouse they were meant to rendezvous at was, of course, abandoned and searching it offered nothing of note. Meanwhile, the Waterfall believes that we are the ones responsible for their missing Jinchuriki and are seeking to pin the blame on us.”
“But… isn’t that,” I barely managed to stop myself from saying stupid and risking another etiquette lesson from Danzo, “unwise? Couldn’t we just as easily turn this around on them for allowing Haku to participate in the exams as a false Waterfall ninja?”
“The damage is done, I’m afraid,” Danzo replied with a hint of fury in his voice. “And given that Gaara of the Sand is a prisoner in this village, our enemies do not care for the truth; only for what seems to be true.”
The fury in Danzo’s voice made me tense up instinctively. I’d never seen him display such raw emotion, even if it was just a hint. It made me wonder if maybe I was seeing a glimpse of the real Danzo beneath his cold calculating exterior.
“So what does that mean for us?” I asked cautiously. "And for the Jinchuriki situation in general?"
"It means we are in a precarious position, Chunin Uzumaki.” Danzo’s voice returned to its usual measured tone. “Three Jinchuriki are now within the Land of Fire’s borders—you, Gaara of the Sand, and potentially this Fuu if she is indeed still travelling with Zabuza Momochi. The other villages will view this as a power play.”
I leaned forward slightly. “But we don’t have Fuu. And Gaara is a prisoner from an invasion of our village, not an asset.”
“As I said, facts matter little in the game of shogi between hidden villages,” Danzo replied, his finger tapping once against the desk. “What matters is perception. The perception is that Leaf is hoarding power after the death of the Third Hokage and an invasion from the Sand. And because of this perception, the order in which I return hostages to the Sand is now out of my hands entirely.”
I’d not come here expecting the conversation to drift in this direction, but finding things out about the larger games afoot in the shinboi world was never a bad thing. But given Danzo and I had discussed everything he’d meant to, the conversation had fizzled out into awkwardness.
Not that the old bastard seemed perturbed.
“That will be all then, Chunin Uzumaki.” Before I could rise from my chair, he continued, “Your Chunin Promotion Ceremony will be held this Saturday at ten in the morning. In light of that, here.”
Danzo reached down into a drawer, removing a sealed, transparent bag. Inside was a chunin flak jacket, but it wasn’t exactly the standard issue. Generally, it looked identical to the jackets I’d seen Asuma and Kakashi in.
But mine had sleeves; white sleeves adorned with a red, flame-like pattern rising from the hem.
I frowned almost instantly. “Are you going to tell the village?”
“It is necessary,” he replied. “With the death of Hiruzen, the village needs a figure to rally behind and love. Ordinarily, it would be the Hokage, but I am not one for empty lip service or the adoration of the masses.”
“And I am?” I answered back in a moment of rare courage in Danzo’s presence. “It’ll be obvious to anyone who looks at me for longer than two seconds that you’ve fashioned my flak jacket after my father’s Hokage cloak.”
Danzo smiled. “What better way to have the more small-minded of our village realise their folly?”
After a long few seconds of staring at the sealed jacket, I picked it up and tucked it under an arm. Despite everything… I couldn’t help but admit that it didn’t look half bad.
Which, of course, only made the cold bastard chuckle.
“Torture and Interrogation will be made aware of your presence before you get there,” he said as I walked towards the door.
I turned around with one hand on the handle.
For the briefest moment, I wondered whether I could take back my decision to accept Haku as my retainer. Not out of any maliciousness on my part towards her for Fuu’s disappearance. I’d done my duty as far as that was concerned, nor could I begrudge her for doing as ordered for a man who thought less of her than dirt.
The decision itself, while it would save her from a pretty miserable life in service of the Leaf, felt like I was predictably playing into Danzo’s hands. I felt like a player in a game where I wasn’t even sure what the board looked like while others—namely the one-eyed old man—made my moves for me.
I could see what Danzo was doing too.
Making me accept Haku as my retainer, officially declaring me as the Fourth Hokage’s son, and permanently dressing me in colours that would remind everyone of that fact. He was trying to tie me to the village in such a way that my lack of love for this place truly wouldn’t matter.
In the end, it really didn’t matter, because so long as the people I loved called this place home, I would too. Less animosity from strangers on a day-to-day basis was always a plus for sheer convenience’s sake too.
But given all I knew of Danzo Shimura, the degree of power he now possessed over me was… deeply unsettling. A fact I was only reminded of as I stepped into the T&I facilities without so much as a grunt in my direction.
The hallway was eerily quiet, the walls a sterile white that seemed to absorb both sound and hope. I passed several unmarked doors, each one identical to the last, before reaching one that stood slightly ajar.
A small plaque beside it read simply: “Interview Room 7.”
“Enter,” came a voice from within before I could even knock.
I pushed the door open to find Ibiki Morino, who I felt like I hadn’t seen in months, seated at a metal table. Across from him sat Haku, looking far more composed than I’d expected for someone who’d been in T&I custody. Her dark hair was pulled back and she wore simple grey prisoner’s clothes.
Morino stood as I entered. “Genin Uzumaki,” he acknowledged with a curt nod. “I’ll leave you to it. The room is monitored, but I’ve been instructed to grant you privacy in your conversation.”
Somehow, I doubted that, but kept said doubts to myself.
As he brushed past me, he added in a lower voice, “Five minutes. Then we process the paperwork. Lord Hokage’s orders.”
The door closed behind him with a solid click, leaving Haku and me alone.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Her dark eyes studied me with the same careful assessment I remembered. Her gaze was devoid of anything, be it despair or hope. There was no hostility in those brown eyes, but no warmth either—just a quiet resignation that seemed to have settled into her posture.
I took the seat Ibiki had vacated. “How are they treating you?”
“Better than I deserve in some ways,” she replied, folding her hands neatly on the table. “Physical torture hasn’t been a thing, and I’m alive, which is more than I expected after failing my mission and being captured. But having my mind swept through was an experience I am not looking forward to ever undergoing again.”
“About that mission,” I began.
“To infiltrate your village and facilitate the abduction of the Seven-Tails’ Jinchuriki,” Haku stated plainly.
I leaned forward slightly. “Fuu. Her name is Fuu.”
Something flickered in Haku's eyes—the barest hint of emotion breaking through her carefully maintained expression. “I know her name.”
“Is she still alive?” I asked the question that had been burning inside me since I learned of her disappearance.
Haku hesitated, and for a moment I thought she might refuse to answer. Then she gave a small nod. “When I last saw her, yes. My master needed her alive for his ambitions. I’ve been informed,” Haku continued, her voice taking on a formal tone, “that I’m to become your retainer. A decision that spares me from several circumstances I’d rather die than end up in."
“Why are you being so honest with me?”
Haku’s gaze was direct and unflinching. “Because if I am to serve you, there should be no lies between us from the start. I will not betray my master’s confidence beyond what I've already shared, but neither will I deceive you about my past actions. As a tool myself, there’s not much I was privy to that would truly harm my master’s ambitions.”
I studied her face, looking for any sign of deception. “And you’re okay with this? Becoming my retainer? I mean, I’ll pay you enough to live nicely and won’t stifle you with formality, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Do you really want to do this?”
For the first time, a small, sad smile curved her lips. “I am a tool, Uzumaki, if not a very good one. First for Zabuza and now for you. My feelings on the matter are irrelevant.”
“They’re not irrelevant to me,” I said firmly. “And I don’t want a tool. I want…” I paused, realising I hadn’t thought through what I wanted from this arrangement. “...at the very least, for you to live a life where your response to freedom isn’t to stab yourself. If you end up becoming someone whom I can trust to have my back, then that’s just a bonus.”
Before she could respond, the door opened and Morino reappeared, a folder tucked under his arm.
“Time’s up,” he announced. “If you’re proceeding with this, we have documents to sign, provided both of you are willing.”
I looked back at Haku, suddenly uncertain. Again, everything about this felt too rushed, too calculated. Another piece moving on Danzo’s board. And yet, there was no obvious angle barring the one I’d already recognised.
“At the risk of exhausting your patience, are you sure about this?” I asked her quietly.
Haku’s eyes met mine, and for just a moment, I glimpsed something beneath the composed exterior—a flicker of the same lost, desperate person I’d come face to face with last week.
“I have nowhere else to go,” she whispered.
It wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement, but it was honest. And right now, honesty seemed like the only solid ground in the quicksand I found myself in.
“Alright,” I said, turning to Morino. “Let’s sign those papers and make this wretched partnership official.”
Unfortunately, my joke had fallen on deaf ears with neither Morino nor Haku giving so much as a twitch of acknowledgement. Contrary to my expectations, another dark-garbed shinobi entered, taking Haku away to make a change in outfit.
“Our department needs to save costs where we can,” Morino explained with a wry smile.
I nodded along as if I understood the experience, of course.
“Say, would it be possible for me to talk to Gaara of the Sand? You’ve got him somewhere here, right?”
His apparent apprehension at the idea was expected, so I played my next card despite the slow death I could feel withering its way to completion inside of me.
“Check in with Lord Fifth,” I replied. “He’ll likely give the green light for this. If not, I’ll be on my way with Haku.”
Morino nodded and left with the promise of a speedy answer and, true to his word, returned in no less than five minutes.
“You may see him, Genin Uzumaki.”
———————————
They had stopped interviewing him and his siblings after two days. Whether that was because they’d only been informed of their role in the operation and nothing more, Gaara didn’t know, nor did he truly care. The Chunin Exams, the operation, and his father’s death were of little consequence to him at the moment. He answered their questions only to minimise the amount of time spent partaking in tedious activities.
Outside of the interrogation facility, the Leaf had decided to place him and his siblings in an apartment close to said facilities to share. The location of which offered him a front-row seat to the funeral of a particularly frustrating elderly man.
No matter where he looked, be it outside his bedroom window, where the Third Hokage’s face was carved into the mountainside, or down into the mourning village, Gaara could not escape Hiruzen Sarutobi, nor the words he’d said to him all those weeks ago.
“Gaara, they’re here again,” Temari said.
He dragged his gaze from his bedroom window to the door where she stood. Her face looked more tired than he remembered, deep bags marking her eyes. She refused to meet his eyes, of course, but even then, Gaara hadn’t realised how alike they looked until she was sporting an expression close in sleeplessness to him.
“They’re asking for you,” she said.
Grunting, he rose from the bare desk and walked past her towards the front door. The familiarly scarred interrogator towered over him in his dark trench coat. Temari moved to follow after him with Kankuro, who was rushing to put a pair of shoes on.
“Only Gaara’s presence is needed,” the interrogator said.
Temari tugged at his sleeve and Gaara resisted the urge to hurt her for it, if only for the uncomfortable level of worry on her face. She let go of him after a moment and Kankuro's eyes captured his own before he could turn.
“Stay safe,” he said.
Gaara merely grunted.
The Leaf Village’s streets were eerily silent as they walked. The few who had the fortune of encountering them parted for them—or rather, they parted for Ibiki and shrunk away in evident fear once they noticed Gaara. He supposed his reputation from the Chunin Exams had preceded him.
The scarred interrogator led him through a path that he’d just been beginning to forget. They approached a tall, cylindrical building with few windows, heavily guarded at its entrance.
“You’re taking me back to the interrogation facility,” Gaara stated flatly.
The man didn’t bother looking back. “You’ve been specifically requested.”
“By who?”
He didn't answer as he nodded to the guards who stepped aside without question. The sterile white halls of the interrogation building flashed past his eyes as the corridor curved, following the circular shape of the building.
Eventually, they reached a simple labelled door.
“Wait here,” he instructed, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
Gaara stood perfectly still in the hallway, his arms crossed. Mother had been unusually quiet these past few days. Her bloodlust was still there, a constant whisper in the back of his mind, but it seemed subdued somehow as if she too was puzzled by their current circumstances.
Perhaps she was just as wary of this place as he was, though for different reasons.
The door opened again, and the interrogator gestured for him to enter. Gaara immediately tensed up at the sight of the person opposite him. Clear blue eyes drifted across to pin him with an unreadable gaze.
“Why don’t you sit down,” Naruto Uzumaki said, motioning to the chair opposite him.
Despite Mother’s calls to tear him apart and finish what he’d started, Gaara sat down.
“Why have you brought me here?” he asked.
Naruto waited until the door was closed before he replied. “I wanted to talk to you at least once before you get sent back to your village.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re like me and there’s an organisation of rogue ninja that have staked their claim to us Jinchuriki. There’s a very real chance that they’ll come after you, being the Jinchuriki of Shukaku.”
Gaara didn’t respond right away. His eyes drifted to the floor for the barest second, then returned to Naruto’s.
“And this is what they send you for now? Warnings?” he said. “You seemed content to try and pound me into the ground when last we met.”
Naruto didn’t rise to the provocation and gave a lazy shrug. “That approach has done its job. You stopped trying to kill everyone. Seemed like something stuck.”
Gaara’s eyes narrowed. “Something did stick.” His gaze flicked, for a moment, to the window behind Naruto, where the faint outline of the mountain tombs could still be seen. The Third’s face watched over them, unblinking. “I’ve watched that face for days from my bedroom window. It’s carved into stone. And still… they cry for him.”
He leaned forward, voice lowering into something almost resembling curiosity.
“He didn’t kill anyone for their love. He didn’t prove anything through violence. And yet… they gathered in the streets. They lowered their heads. They wept. Why?”
Naruto didn’t answer immediately.
“I’ve killed many,” Gaara said slowly. “No one in Suna would do that for me.”
“Yeah,” Naruto said. “That’s kind of the point.”
Gaara’s fingers curled faintly on the table. “Killing is what gives meaning to life. To mine, at least. To prove I exist. To prove that Mother and I mattered.”
Mother stirred at that—discontent, but not screaming.
“I saw the way you looked at him when he was talking to you,” Naruto said. “He got under your skin.”
Gaara’s jaw twitched. “No one speaks to me like that.”
“Maybe that’s why you remember it.”
Silence again. Tighter this time.
“Look… as much as I’d love to, I wasn’t sent here to talk about him. I came because the Akatsuki are dangerous. They’ll come after you and they won’t care about your past. Or what you believe. They’ll just want the Tailed Beast inside you.”
Gaara didn’t blink. “Then they’ll die.”
“Maybe. But they’re after all of us. So… it’s not nothing. You should know.”
Gaara gave a slow nod, but there was no real agreement in it. Just acknowledgment. Then, after a pause: “Do they mourn in Konoha because they are told to?”
“What?”
Gaara’s stare sharpened. “Did someone command them to weep? Is that why they loved him?”
“No one had to tell them,” Naruto said. “They just did.”
“How?” he asked. “Why?”
Naruto watched him for a long moment. “Because he protected them. He forgave them. He tried. Even when it wasn’t easy.”
Gaara stared at the floor, and for once, Mother didn’t say a thing.
“I don’t understand,” he muttered.
Naruto stood. “Maybe you don’t have to yet,” he said. “Because I certainly don’t. Not after they shunned me. But… just… think about it. That’s all. Maybe fighting for those who care for you is a better way to live.”
He started for the door, then paused. “If you ever want to talk again before you leave… I’m around.”
Gaara didn’t reply.
As the door clicked shut behind Naruto, Gaara stayed where he was, eyes on the wall. The silence inside his head was louder than he liked. He could still hear the cries of the villagers. Still, see their hunched shoulders. Not in fear but in grief. It gnawed at something deep in him—not guilt but a question.
And that was almost worse.
- - -
Comments
Xardas2995
Strange that I am actually saying this, but I want more Danzo. Also more chapters in general. Feels like we are just getting to the good part.
Anon117
Nicely done twist with making Danzo the Hokage. I really like how you aren't falling into the trap of a comically evil Danzo by making him a more nuanced, even a good character. Besides, he was right. Making a person who hadn't even lived in the village in 10 plus years the leader would make her reliant on those same elders HIruzen and the younger generation wanted out.
