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2025-01-10
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2025-01-13
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2/?
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Summary:

Konoha has never been able to endure Naruto's existence. While the village accepted the presence of jinchuuriki, the new nature of the vessels stirred the old hatred.
Thus, Naruto had always been isolated with a visceral hatred that convinced him there must truly be something inherently wrong with him.
Uncovering the truth about himself becomes both an explanation for the years of suffering he endured and a deep-seated desire for redemption. Joining Team 7 opens a door to a new world. But Sasukeā€¦ Sasuke is a mystery. One that demands to be unraveled, a puzzle that draws Naruto with an obsessive, unstoppable interest. He cannot explain what it is about that scornful, surly boy that captivates him so, yet in Sasukeā€™s presence, a part of Naruto feels inexplicably at peace.
And when Sasuke betrays the village, the young ninjaā€™s world collapses and the village confines Naruto, condemning him to solitude until a decision about his future can be made.
Alone, Naruto has no choice but to reflect on what lies ahead. All the while, the Akatsuki begins to move once more, their goals veiled in shadow

A What If scenario where Naruto is not a jinchuuriki but rather the Nine-Tailed Fox itself, bound in human form.

Notes:

Another fanfiction Iā€™ve kept hidden in the drafts for years, gathering dust, which Iā€™ve decided to bring back simply because I can. I think I have a problem with AUs where Naruto is the Nine-Tails Fox; I love him with all my heart, and Naruto has been my comfort character since elementary school.

For this reason, itā€™s likely heā€™ll endure the torments of hell, but these things happen, unfortunately. I hope heā€™ll survive. Somehow.

English is not my first language, so if you come across any typos or mistakes, feel free to let me know, of course!

Chapter 1: PROLOGUE

Chapter Text

ĪŗĪ±Ī·Ī¼ĻŒĻ‚ ā€¢ (kaĆÆmĆ³s) m (plural ĪŗĪ±Ī·Ī¼ĪæĪÆ)
longing, yearning, heartache

Ā 

Ā 

PROLOGUE

numquam minus solus quam cum solus
never less alone then when alone

Ā 

Ā 

Naruto did not necessarily feel disdain for the Village. The enthusiasm he had carried since childhood, when he still hoped to become a Hokage greater than any other, had now faded. Yet, it would also be a mistake not to acknowledge that the passing of years had taken its toll on his beliefs.
Did he still wish for the villagers to stop despising him? Naturally. The sense of isolation he had borne since birth would never fade, but there was a difference between seeking acceptance and wanting to integrate so deeply as to lead the village.

Around him, the walls of the room were a pale color, the original orange paint now peeling to reveal the creamy white beneath. Much like himself, even the changes he had made to that room were slowly disappearing, devoured by time, forgotten by everyone.

There were still several hours before Sakura would visit him; after all, the sun had only just risen beyond the walls of the apartment. The blinds were closed, as they always were; natural light struggled to filter through the heavy slats of painted wood. But Naruto had learned to mark time. He always woke up just before sunrise, listening to the footsteps of the Anbu switching places on the flat roof of the house, as regular as clockworkā€”or so he believed. He shouldnā€™t have been able to hear them; that was the point of the Anbu, wasnā€™t it? But solitude was a grumpy and stubborn beast, and in order to ignore it, he had learned to distinguish even the faintest sounds, the most fragile signals.

From time to time, when he was particularly bored, he even amused himself by annoying them: approaching the windows, knocking loudly on the glass, pretending to draw the attention of unsuspecting passersby walking by a few meters away. It never lasted more than a few minutes, whether because he didnā€™t get any useful reactions or because someone actually turned to look. In those cases, he withdrew, hiding in the shadows, avoiding gazes until the curious person convinced themselves they had imagined everything.

Was he ashamed? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Perhaps he just preferred not to be seen that way, trapped like a caged animal, treated like a convict.

He could only thank Tsunade for not ending up in a real prison, watched over by the terrifying and fixed gazes of the Root members. Danzo Shimura, the old councilor he had once even admired, in some way, had passed by countless times. Each time, he had looked at Naruto with contempt, as if he were a traitor, a filthy enemy to be annihilated and driven from the village. Naruto didnā€™t want to, nor could, blame him. He despised his imprisonment as much as he understood its reasons.

He lazily got up from the tatami, his back cracking as he dragged himself toward the bathroom. He didnā€™t bother to stretch to turn on the light; even in total darkness, he could navigate those four walls. Three long years had been enough for him to memorize the sparse furniture along the walls, the creakiest floorboards, and the squeaky hinges of the two doors dividing his living space.
Initially, they had allowed him to keep all his belongings. His kunai were carefully stored in a case on the nightstand, his renowned orange jumpsuit hanging in the meager wardrobe. But slowly, the jumpsuit had started not to fit him anymore; the kunai had rusted from disuse, and no one had bothered to replace either.

He realized he had entered another room when the soles of his feet touched the cool, shiny bathroom tiles, sending a shiver down his spine. He leaned tiredly against the chipped sink, scrutinizing the distorted reflection in the mirror: he should have cut his hair. The dry ends now reached his collarbones, brushing against the skin of his back.
Even his face had seen better days. Despite sleeping for most of the day, napping to pass the hours, his under-eye circles were dark and purplish, as though someone had punched him. If that had been the case, he might have rejoicedā€”it would have been an unjustified but interesting change in his wretched routine. Perhaps the true culprit was his pale complexion, on which his scars stood out like blood on fresh snow. They almost seemed more evident, more pronouncedā€”not just in color. Some mornings, they slashed across his cheeks, reaching the corners of his eyes and brushing against his lips; other times, they were reduced to thin, dark slits. There was no regularity to these changes, or perhaps he preferred to ignore the causes, just as he ignored the crimson reflection of his gaze when a knock on the door forced him back into the bedroom. Which was also the living room. And the entrance.

Sakura always managed to have perfect timing, but seeing her face through the peephole made him wonder how much time had passed. The girl never arrived before training and cleaning up from the sweat, so at least a couple of hours must have passed since his internal clock last ticked.
Had he really spent so much time in front of the mirror? Or perhaps he hadnā€™t realized the time between when he woke up and finally got out of bed? Sakura didnā€™t give him time to figure it out: Naruto found himself enveloped in a desperate hug, the girlā€™s muscular arms wrapped around his neck.
Compared to his own, which inactivity had rendered thin and frail, her arms seemed sculpted from stoneā€”reassuring. He surrendered to the embrace unwillingly, resting his forehead on Sakuraā€™s shoulder.

She smelled nice, a light floral scent that Naruto had come to associate with her soap, and her hair was as soft as feathers. If he had more self-respect, he might have worried about his own condition, but in that moment, all that mattered was the warmth of Sakuraā€™s embrace. She, too, seemed to care about nothing but holding him close.

They separated after what felt like an eternity of fleeting moments, and Sakuraā€™s hand immediately found its way to ruffle his hair, making it even messier.
ā€œTsunade-san told me you refused to tell her again,ā€ her tone, usually so lively and loud, had softened into a maternal whisper. When had she become so calm? When had she lost her inexhaustible energy and boldness? He hadnā€™t seen her laugh heartily in a long time, though it was also true he only saw her for a few hours each day, when she was most tired. And his situation certainly didnā€™t make her joyful.
It was something that selfishly comforted himā€”knowing that someone was upset for him and suffered because of his imprisonment. One day, he would let her know how grateful he was for her presence, how those little visits were the only thing saving him from madness.

The silence grew heavy, enough to snap him out of his thoughts.
He hadnā€™t responded, had he? What was the question?
He thought for a moment, then realized there could only be one.
He sighed. They had discussed it countless times.
ā€œTalking to her wouldnā€™t benefit either of us.ā€

Was that hoarse, scratchy sound his voice? Yet he remembered drinking water not long ago.
Or was it the night before? He wasnā€™t thirsty, though.
Not even hungry, actually.
He hadnā€™t had breakfast, but he must have had dinner.
Probably.

A flick on his forehead brought his gaze back to Sakuraā€™s green eyes. He hadnā€™t answered her again.

Her expression was worried, her brows furrowed, and her gaze shadowed. How long had she been talking to him without him responding?
ā€œSorry,ā€ he said, the words slipping from his lips out of habit. To Sakura, they seemed enoughā€”or at least she seemed satisfied enough to exact revenge with a playful punch to the top of his head. He probably deserved it.
ā€œShe cares about you, Naruto. She doesnā€™t care what might happen to her.ā€

Every time, at least every three or four visits, they circled back to that topic. Sakura was convinced that by insisting, she might make him relent somehow, but Naruto could still rely on one quality: he would not let those he cared about suffer if he could prevent it.
ā€œThatā€™s why I have to worry about her. As long as I keep her away, Danzo wonā€™t be able to hurt herā€”or us.ā€

Sakura hated it when Naruto disregarded his own fate, no matter the reason behind it.
ā€œYou canā€™t give up your entire life just to avoid Danzo forever, Naruto.ā€

Once again, the same back-and-forth began, a familiar exchange of words rising from their lips like bitter bile.
ā€œIā€™m not trying to avoid him. I want you all to avoid him. Root is dangerous, Sakura, and right now, Root wants me. I donā€™t know if dead or alive, though.ā€
It didnā€™t take a genius to figure that outā€”not when the organizationā€™s guards slithered through the alleys around the house, thinking they werenā€™t being seen. Yamato might pretend he wasnā€™t involved, but Naruto could smell the same acrid scent on him that emanated from the agents. Naruto should have told Sakura about those strange incidents, about how his sense of smell had suddenly sharpened, about his hearing catching the faintest rustles. One day, he would. Probably.

ā€œWe can take care of ourselves. Tsunade-san can take care of herself. Sheā€™s the Hokage, Naruto, not just any ninja that Danzo can crush under his boot.ā€
This was unusual. Sakura never insisted this much. After a few minutes, their conversations usually dwindled into her tired sighs and his brooding silence. It was enough to make him blink, a thin veil of attention surfacing among his thoughts again.
ā€œDid something happen?ā€
He didnā€™t worry about the abrupt change of topic or interrupting Sakura while she was still trying to reason with him. He just wanted to know.
She bit her lower lip, hesitant. Naruto had learned to be patient, to endure the wait, but patience had never been his strong suitā€”not even as a child. Especially as a child.
ā€œWhatever happened, I canā€™t do anything stupid to deal with it. Iā€™m stuck here, at least tell me something.ā€
His voice came out more like a plea, a whiny demand of a petulant child, but Sakura didnā€™t scold him. She didnā€™t even shoot him one of her typical exasperated or judgmental looks. She just sighed again, for the umpteenth time. Her lungs must have had endless air.

ā€œThe Akatsuki have started moving again. Two of their members were spotted at the Fire Countryā€™s border. They stopped them, sent them back, but we donā€™t know what they were doing or where they were heading.ā€
Oh, but they knew. Sakura knew. Tsunade knew. Naruto knew. Any ninja who had ever had the misfortune of encountering the organizationā€™s work knew. They were headed for the Hidden Leaf Village, down an underused road, to an apartment with peeling walls and nonexistent furniture.
It was no use pretending otherwise, yet uncertainty provided a certain sense of security in that context.

He had encountered the Akatsuki only once, before his imprisonment. Master Jiraiya had managed to save him just in time before the two men could drag him away. In the early months of his imprisonment, he had wondered if being rescued had been the wisest choice, considering where he had ended up. Then he had berated himself, pulling his hair out in a futile attempt at self-punishment: no matter how odious his life might be now, he didnā€™t want to become a weapon in the Akatsukiā€™s hands. If that was even their goal. If they hadnā€™t planned a completely different fate for him. He couldnā€™t let them meet Her. No one could meet Her. Naruto would stop them with every ounce of his strength.

ā€œThink about it, really.ā€ Sakura again.
How terrible a friend could he be if he only listened to a third of what she said? But Sakura didnā€™t seem angryā€”she wasnā€™t angry. Of course, she wasnā€™t.
She just left a kiss on his forehead, standing on her tiptoes to reach him more easily, and Naruto remained as still as a statue of salt until she pulled away.
ā€œTomorrow, Iā€™ll have to leave for a mission. I hope to return as soon as possible.ā€
Naruto hated when Sakura went on missions. And he hated himself even more for itā€”for the secret hope he nurtured every day: a domestic, familiar scene in which Sakura, the sweet Sakura he had been hopelessly in love with as a child and who had grown into an even more extraordinary woman, would set aside her life to keep him company. To push back, just a little, the noisy and yet so silent darkness of his room.

He grunted a noise that was supposed to sound like acknowledgment, but this time he earned another punch on the shoulder in response. Taken by surprise, he stepped back.
ā€œIā€™ll be back in time for your birthday, I promise.ā€
Did Sakura think Naruto was upset about that? His birthday. He could barely keep track of the passing days, let alone remember his birthday.
October 10th. He was born on October 10th. Of course.
He couldnā€™t forget that date; it was the day of the great catastrophe. No one would ever forget that date. And yet, who could blame him for not realizing it was approaching?

ā€œTo make it up to you, I brought you some Ichiraku ramen. He said his place hasnā€™t been as lively since you stopped being his regular customer.ā€
The attempt to lighten the mood was at least appreciated, as was the bag weighted down by a tightly sealed bowl of steaming ramen. Hunger roared back, protesting after being ignored (satisfied?) for so long.

ā€œThank you. Be careful,ā€ he realized his voice had softened, at least at the end, and Sakura gave him a tired but relieved smile in return.
He didnā€™t stop her as she walked silently and calmly toward the door of the room. He didnā€™t say goodbyeā€”he never did. Goodbyes always made him think they marked an end, the termination of a conversation or an encounter. If he didnā€™t say goodbye, he could pretend the other person would have no choice but to returnā€”to finish what had been started.

ā€œIn the days Iā€™m away, Kakashi-sensei will stop by. Heā€™s just returned, but heā€™s already asked about how youā€™re doing.ā€
Her words came quickly, spoken as Sakura was already on the threshold, and her slender figure disappeared beyond the wooden panel before Naruto could protest. He had no more desire to see Kakashi than he had to see Tsunade, for largely the same reasons.
But if Tsunade could be kept away by the affection that bound them and made her predictable, Kakashi had always been a mystery. A pleasant mystery born of his never-seen face and continued through his unusual demeanor, his awful literary habits, and the Sharingan spinning in his left eye.
That eye had always instilled in him an instinctive fear, though he hadnā€™t understood why until a couple of years later. Because of another Sharingan, so similar yet so different at the same time. Definitely more unpleasant, though.

Somewhere within him, he felt his heart stir, instinctively joyful and utterly indifferent to his concerns. His sensei wanted to see him, despite everything. Despite having only glimpsed him over the past three years during Anbu guard shifts, always too far to seek comfort from him. His mind was fractured between the desire to bridge the gap of the past years and the stubborn determination to protect those he cared about by ensuring Danzo wouldnā€™t redirect his malevolent attention toward them.
He would have time to sort it out and make a final decisionā€”Kakashi wouldnā€™t come until the following day. Probably.
Sometimes, the lack of certainty was frustrating, but it allowed him to make the most of the few novelties that unfolded in otherwise identical days. He would also need to think about what to do with Tsunade. The Akatsukiā€™s movements must have worried her much more than Danzo ever could.

It was reasonable: Danzo had never threatened to destroy the village. Quite the oppositeā€”his greatest interest, however twisted and questionable his methods might be, was the safeguarding of Konoha. But in any case, did he want to meet her? What should he say to her after refusing to see her for three years?

Sorry, Tsunade-baa-chan, I didnā€™t want Danzo to force you to resign or imprison you somewhere.

Iā€™m sorry I refused your visits for so long. Donā€™t worry about a terrorist organization looking for me; Iā€™ll survive.

He had lost that natural disposition to reassure others. He couldnā€™t even do it for himself, let alone for those around him. He didnā€™t have the means or the strength to find the right words. Moreover, most of the time now, it was others who reassured him. And by "others," he mainly meant Sakura, who occasionally relayed words from his old friends.
Friends. A word whose meaning had dimmed, no matter how dear it remained to him. His friends hadnā€™t seen him in yearsā€”what opinion did they have of him now? Could he trust that Sakura wasnā€™t trying to placate him, to spare him the thought of their disinterest?

He missed the quiet, lazy afternoons spent with Choji and Shikamaru, the arguments with Kiba, the sweetness of Hinata. He had never taken them for granted, but he wished he had paid them more attention, etched them more firmly into his memory: now those memories were starting to fade into grayness, replaced by boredom.
He let himself fall back onto the bed, his back curving forward, his head sinking between his shoulders. He might have seemed defeated, but the truth was he longed to surrender to sleep again. He prayed that the weariness in his limbs would also suffocate his mind, obliterating his thoughts.

Because deep down, he knew. He feared where his mind would wander when it had nothing else to focus on: him. Who else? Their last encounter, the events he could have handled better. He was certain, utterly certain, that if he had made different choices, if he had acted differently, Sasuke wouldnā€™t have left the village.
Sasuke wouldnā€™t have left Konoha, and Naruto wouldnā€™t be in this situation.

Changing the past was pointless, but with nothing else to do, he could allow himself to imagine a world where things had gone differently, couldnā€™t he?
Better to indulge in illusions than memories.

Chapter 2: ARC I - Chapter I

Summary:

Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura face the Bell Test

Notes:

And here we are with the first actual chapter!
I wasnā€™t planning to update so soon, and I warn you not to get used to itā€”Iā€™m generally a sloth.

Before we begin, I wanted to clarify a couple of things.
Although the story will mainly take place during Shippuden, this narrative arc will summarize Team 7ā€™s experience before the final round of the Chunin Selection Exam.
Additionally, most of the dialogue and events closely follow the manga, with natural artistic liberties taken due to character and context changes.

With that said, I leave you to the reading.
Let me know what you thinkā€”kudos and comments are always greatly appreciated!

Chapter Text

ARC I
į¼€ĻĻ‡Ī® ā€¢ (arche)

something that was in the beginning, a first principle
in ancient greek philosophy. a substance or primal element

Ā 

CHAPTER I

nemo nisi per amicitiam cognoscitur

no one learns except by friendship

Ā 

The training field was different from how Naruto had imagined it every time he had dreamed of entering it: a wide clearing, covered in grass, enclosed within the forest bordering the village. Above him, above them, the sky was a clear blue, and the sun seemed to delight in roasting them with its rays. Ā 
Lying on the grassy carpet, Naruto didnā€™t mind it too much: he had endured worse than a bit of sunshine, and truth be told, he was about to fall asleep. At first, he had convinced himself he wanted to strike up a conversation, to chatter about anything that came to mind in the hope Sakura would pay him some attention. Then he thought better of it. Ā 
The girl was not far from him, her long pink hair (cherry-scentedā€”could anything be more enchanting?) held back from her face with the villageā€™s hitai-ate. He had been in love with her since the first time he met her, when he was still very young and unaware of... everything.

He hadnā€™t seen her for a long time after leaving the ninja academy, but he couldnā€™t deny that his infatuation remained. There was something about Sakuraā€™s strong and determined demeanor, her stubbornness, that made her perfect in Narutoā€™s eyes. He would have moved heaven and earth to talk to her (to speak civilly, like friends). Naruto would have begged on his knees; he would have given up his hitai-ate. No, not the hitai-ate. He owed that to Master Iruka and granpa, to the dream he had nurtured since childhood. But apart from that, he would have sacrificed everythingā€”it would have been worth it for Sakura. Ā 
Sakura, however, did not seem to share the same desire. Not that she mistreated him or actively spoke ill of him (at least, he hoped not). She merely ignored him, showing no reaction to anything Naruto said or did: the kind of treatment you give a bothersome stray, hoping it would go away. Naruto was not naive enough not to understand it, but he still held out hope he could change her mind. Perhaps he should learn to seem more mysterious, more somber. His gaze drifted to the other figure, silent and dark, who had taken refuge under the branches of a large tree with a book in hand.

Naruto truly didnā€™t understand what people saw in Sasuke Uchiha. Seriously, the guy practically never spoke or interacted. Even as children, Naruto didnā€™t recall him ever staying to chat with other classmatesā€”he would simply leave as quietly as he had arrived. Ā 
Okay, he was a genius and incredibly skilled and, moreover, an Uchiha. But was his familyā€™s name enough to make everyone overlook how odious he was? Not that Naruto hated him. He had tried, and he continued to harbor a generous bitterness toward Sasuke, sometimes bordering on hatred, but he couldnā€™t truly hate him. Ā 
He had heard about the fate of the Uchiha clan and couldnā€™t blame Sasuke for not wanting to connect with others.
Naruto didnā€™t properly know loss, but he imagined that making friends wouldnā€™t be a priority. Ā 
But one thing was certain: like Sasuke, he too didnā€™t have a family. Unlike Sasuke, however, he had never had the chance to reject a friendship. No, Naruto would have done anything to trade places with Sasuke, to receive the same attention.

Naruto didnā€™t hate Sasuke; he envied him. He craved what Sasuke dismissed, watching as people tried to break through the walls Sasuke built against the world, the same walls that in turn pushed Naruto away from them.
He slapped his cheeks soundly, his fingers grazing the raised scars on his face. He couldnā€™t afford to give up. Iruka believed in him and his abilities; Naruto knew he would eventually change the villageā€™s perception of him. It didnā€™t matter what he wasā€”he wouldnā€™t let it corrupt him or lock him in a cage: he hated being confined, it bored him, and then it started to make him sick. He sat up decisively, looking around, hoping the situation had changed in the last ten minutes. Ā 
No, there was still no sign of their teacher.

ā€œDo you think something happened to him?ā€

Naruto realized he wasnā€™t the one who asked. Sakuraā€™s voice carried a slightly worried tone as she furrowed her brows, focusing her gaze on the path connecting the training ground to the village. Naruto didnā€™t think anything serious had happened, or someone would have come to notify them. If not him, then definitely Sasuke or Sakura. Ā 
ā€œDonā€™t worry. He was late yesterday too; he must have gotten lost.ā€ His voice came out kind, amused, less enthusiastic than he intendedā€”it was an attempt to control his exuberance. He had to handle his friendships (or attempts at them) more cautiously.

Not everyone will accept you immediately, Naruto, but you and I know youā€™re a good person.

Right. Iruka had told him to be patient and take things one step at a time. He grimaced guiltily, as if Sakura had punched him, the moment she replied sternly, ā€œDo you think this is the time to joke? Something serious couldā€™ve happened.ā€ Naruto wasnā€™t joking; his comment had been an honest attempt to reassure her. Ā 
She didnā€™t like it, or perhaps she didnā€™t understand it. Wrong approach. Naruto still had to refine his way of speaking. Before he could explain or find a way to apologize, Sakura had already turned to Sasuke. Again. Ā 
Naruto couldnā€™t hear what she was saying to him, but Sasuke was ignoring her. Ā 
Again.

The arrival of their teacher, Kakashi, broke the tension that had built up in the air. He appeared out of nowhere, eerily silent, emerging from the trees. He held a book in his right hand, his fingers expertly and nimbly placed between the pages so he could keep it open and flip through it while leaving one hand free. He must have loved reading more than it appeared. Ā 
ā€œSorry, guys. I had to help an old lady cross the street.ā€ Ā 
If he wanted to sound convincing, he was a terrible liar, but Naruto knew terrible liars. They never had that neutral, bored expression. No, Kakashi had certainly lied, but more to give an excuse to avoid explanations than to deceive themā€”it was as clear as daylight that it was a lie.

Still, Sakura found a reason to complain, launching into an animated and irritated tirade that Kakashi dismissed with a half-hearted wave. His demeanor was aggravating, but Naruto felt a faint relief realizing their teacher treated him the same way as the others. He might have wanted to punch him in the face, but only like any other peer might want to.

ā€œVery well, for today Iā€™d say, um, letā€™s start by introducing yourselves,ā€ Kakashi said in a tone that was strangely detached. Despite his imposing appearance, he sounded mostly bored. His peculiar looks didnā€™t help form a clear impression of him: ignoring his unruly silver hair, a fabric mask covered the lower half of his face up to his nose, while his hitai-ate tilted to cover his left eye. As a result, only a sliver of his face was visibleā€”the part with his right eye. Ā 
Naruto shook his head, slapping his cheeks again to focus as their teacher continued speaking. He must have missed a question because the man seemed vaguely more annoyed than before. Or so it seemed, anyway.

ā€œOh well, you can talk about the things you like, what you hate, your dreams, hobbies, that sort of thing.ā€ Ā 
Naruto opened his mouth to speak, but Sakura beat him to it. Again.Ā 
ā€œWhy donā€™t you start, then? We donā€™t know anything about who you are.ā€
Fair point; they barely even knew his name. The idea of introducing himself didnā€™t seem to thrill Kakashi, but he didnā€™t oppose it either. He shrugged, sighing, before offering a few tidbits. None of them particularly revealing.

ā€œMy name is Kakashi Hatake. I have no intention of telling you what I like or dislike. My dreams? Even if I told you, it wouldnā€™t matter. Lastly, I have several interests.ā€
The silence that settled over the training field symbolized the confusion his introduction caused among the young genin. It also made it clear that Kakashi wasnā€™t going to elaborate. It was their turn.
Naruto wanted to break the ice, to show his strength in front of his teammates, but something held him back. He decided to let one person go ahead first to gauge the tone of the conversation. He wasnā€™t afraid of their opinions. Master Iruka had said he had earned his place in the village and among the ninja. He had nothing to be ashamed of.

Sakura, fortunately, decided to go first.

ā€œIā€™m Sakura Haruno. Thereā€™s something I likeā€¦ well, someone.ā€ Naruto found the slight blush of embarrassment that tinged her cheeks adorable. He liked less the way Sakura immediately glanced toward the indifferent figure of Sasuke.
ā€œIā€™m not sure if I want to talk about my dreams, but one thing I hate isā€¦ Naruto.ā€
There had been hesitation in saying his name, but that didnā€™t spare Naruto from a strangled gasp.
Sakura hated him? What had he done so wrong to deserve that?

He knew many of his classmates had been influenced by their parents, hating him as their families did, but none ever said it so explicitly. They hadnā€™t even interacted that much, to be honest. Sure, as a kid, Naruto had done little to hide his crush, following Sakura everywhere and trying to talk to her at every opportunity. But in the past year, they had seen each other maybe two or three times.
Sakuraā€™s hobbies werenā€™t interesting enough to pull him out of the dubious emotional state that realization had thrown him into.
His thoughts, however, were interrupted when it was Sasukeā€™s turn. His gaze snapped to the last of the Uchiha, as if trying to discern any particular reactions as he spoke. A futile effort.

ā€œI am Sasuke Uchiha. I hate a lot of things and donā€™t particularly like anything.ā€
Okay, prince of darkness. He sounded like the protagonist of one of those books Naruto occasionally peeked at in Konohaā€™s bookstores. Before being chased out, of course.
ā€œI donā€™t want to talk about my dreams, but I have an ambition. I will restore my clan to its former glory andā€¦ā€ Naruto realized he had been holding his breath, waiting. ā€œKill a certain someone.ā€
Oh.

Naruto blinked a couple of times, processing that information with a thoughtful hum. He didnā€™t know why it struck him so much, but something in his gut seemed to spark irritation.Ā§When Kakashi loudly cleared his throat, Naruto realized it was finally his turn. He took a deep breath, puffing out his chest and straightening his back, then arranged one of his best smiles on his lips.

That smile is all it takes for people to remember that night. Your very appearance brings back memories of those who didnā€™t survive because of you.

Mizukiā€™s voice echoed in his thoughts, unwanted, like an arrow piercing directly into his stomach. But he didnā€™t let it win.
He had to make a good impression.
ā€œIā€™m Naruto Uzumaki,ā€ he declared, proudly pounding a hand on his chest and stepping forward. ā€œI like ramen; itā€™s my favorite food, especially the one from Ichiraku. As for what I hateā€¦ā€ the villagersā€™ stares, the loneliness of his house, what he was, the lack of a family or friends, ā€œitā€™s the three minutes it takes for Ichiraku to prepare the ramen.ā€
He couldnā€™t complain, not so suddenly. What kind of impression would that give of him? He couldnā€™t expect to carve out his place in the world by earning pity.
ā€œMy goal is to become the strongest Hokage ever,ā€ Naruto pretended not to hear the amused scoff that escaped Sakura after that sentence, ā€œand show the village that Iā€™m a worthy ninja,ā€ so theyā€™ll stop hating me, stop isolating me. He felt the embarrassment crackle under his cheeks as his teammatesā€™ gazes pierced himā€”some with boredom, some with mocking amusement. Sasuke wasnā€™t looking at him at all.

Kakashi allowed them a few more minutes to rest, then clapped his hands in front of his chest, calling them to order. They immediately snapped to attention, especially when the teacher began to scrutinize them closely.
ā€œThatā€™s enough introductions. Starting tomorrow, Iā€™ll assign you a mission.ā€
Oh, things were getting serious already. Perfectā€”Naruto would have the chance to prove his worth from the get-go.
ā€œWhat kind of task?ā€ he asked, satisfied with the lively yet non-intrusive tone of his voice.

ā€œFor starters, itā€™ll just be something between us,ā€ Kakashi replied. Just between them? No villagers to save, no rewards?
Narutoā€™s disappointment must have been evident, despite his efforts to hide it, because Kakashi seemed strangely irritated as he continued his explanation.
ā€œItā€™ll be a survival exercise.ā€
A tense silence fell, laden with expectation for Naruto. For Sasuke and Sakura, perhaps less so, judging by Sakuraā€™s annoyed tone as she replied, ā€œBut weā€™ve already done tons of those at the academy. Why give us that as a mission?ā€.

Well, Naruto supposed the two must have practiced quite a bit. He couldnā€™t exactly say the same: Master Iruka had given him everything he needed, but field training had been somewhat lackingā€”partly because Naruto had terrible control over his chakra.

Kakashi continued, indifferent to the complaints. ā€œThis wonā€™t be a simple survival exercise. First of all, Iā€™ll be your opponent.ā€ However, he refrained from providing further details immediately.
Naruto shifted dangerously from one foot to the other as Kakashi chuckled malevolently.
ā€œWhat are you hiding from us?ā€ Naruto realized that, along with confusion, his tone had taken on a hint of irritation. A deep breathā€”it would all be fine.
ā€œIā€™m afraid youā€™d be scared if I told you, but it doesnā€™t matter. Of the twenty-seven students who graduated, only nine will actually become genin. The other eighteen will return to the academy.ā€
What? Wasnā€™t passing the academyā€™s final exam enough to become a genin? Naruto had barely managed to earn his hitai-ate. And even that, he had obtained through unconventional means.

After all, the one tied around his head was Irukaā€™s hitai-ate, the one he had given him afterā€¦ well, after the whole Mizuki affair. Naruto shivered instinctively, bile rising in his throat at the thought of what had happenedā€”of what he had discovered.
ā€œThis exercise is an entrance exam with a failure rate above sixty percent.ā€
Kakashi continued his speech impassively, indifferent to the state of panic he had thrown the students into. Naruto, for one, was certainly panicking. He didnā€™t even have the strength to retort, gulping down air in large breaths. The buzz of Sakuraā€™s complaints reached him faintly, incomprehensibly, as he was too consumed by the problem unfolding before his eyes.

ā€œIn any case, tomorrow after the exercise, Iā€™ll decide who to fail or pass.ā€ As he said those words, Kakashi was already walking away, his gaze alternating between his book and them.
ā€œOh, bring your equipment,ā€ he added, handing each of them a piece of paper. The handwriting was almost illegible, especially given Narutoā€™s general hatred for reading.
ā€œAnd donā€™t eat breakfast, or youā€™ll risk throwing up.ā€

Another cryptic statement, enough to elicit a nervous growl from Naruto. ā€œSo all our hard work was for nothing?!ā€
It wasnā€™t a controlled outburst; he realized that Kakashiā€™s gaze was now solely on him, inscrutable. Had he made him angry? He didnā€™t seem to hate him, at leastā€”that was a good starting point.
ā€œThe academy served to establish that you had the potential to become genin. Be punctual.ā€
Struck down. Naruto hadnā€™t even finished attending it, to be honest. But he wouldnā€™t let that limitation stop him. He wouldnā€™t let himself be failed.
Even if it meant punching Teacher Kakashi, he would prove to everyone he was strong.
He would never let himself be failed.

Ā 

Ā 

All his confidence wavered the moment he found himself tied too tightly to a large wooden stump at the end of the morning. The exercise had just concluded, and it had gone catastrophically wrong.
Kakashi had told them to take the two small bells he held in his handsā€”one each: whoever failed to get one in time would inevitably lose.

Naruto could only blame his impulsiveness for the way he had decided to jump into the fray before the trial even began. And he had been stopped within secondsā€”embarrassing. From the start, he had known he had no hope of effectively hiding; he didnā€™t have the same training as Sakura or Sasuke. His only chance to win was to expose himself openly and hope for the best.

Other than the mockery from his teammates and their teacher, he had gained nothing but a defeat on all fronts. Sure, neither Sakura nor Sasuke had managed to grab the bells, but Sakura hadnā€™t ended up hanging upside down from a branch, and Sasuke had managed to give the teacher a hard time. Naturally, Sasuke had succeeded; was there anything he couldnā€™t do? Naruto wondered if his bravadoā€”the confident facade he had put on for the confrontationā€”had made him more unpleasant in his teammatesā€™ eyes. It had certainly made him more unwelcome to Sakura, who wasnā€™t even looking at him, too busy making sure Sasuke was okay. And Sasuke... Naruto supposed it was hard to worsen something that was already at rock bottom. Especially since Sasuke had only ever looked at him with disapproving or disgusted glances since their first meeting.

Naruto was more afraid of Kakashiā€”of being eliminated, sent back to the academy. If that happened, he would never again have the chance to prove his strength to the village: no one would ever let him take the test again. Not after his first failure, not after he had already been denied once. The incident with Mizuki had been resolved without issue only because of Irukaā€™s intervention, but the teacher couldnā€™t protect him forever.

ā€œListen to your growling stomachs!ā€ Kakashiā€™s voice was annoyingly amused, bordering on mocking, as he approached them. Sakura and Sasuke rested on the ground in front of him, free from the constraints that held Naruto in an awkward, uncomfortable pose.
ā€œNow, back to the matter at hand,ā€ he began. ā€œConsidering this exercise...ā€ Naruto held his breath, his stomach knotting painfully in his gut.
He awaited the conclusion of that sentence as if it were the last gulp of air for someone about to drown.

ā€œNone of you will need to return to the ninja academy.ā€
What? They didnā€™t have to go back?
ā€œSo, does this mean weā€”ā€ he blurted out, hopeful, his eyes bulging in their sockets.
Kakashi crushed his hope immediately, with his usual serene expression: ā€œExactly, I want you three to stop being ninjas.ā€

The knot in his stomach returned, stronger than before, accompanied by a surge of bile that stopped at the base of his tongue. The nausea crackled along his throat, his mouth watered, but he didnā€™t vomit. He remained silent, perhaps stunned, perhaps simply incapable of reacting.
ā€œWhy do you want us to quit?!ā€ Sakuraā€™s voice showed she was just as angry and panicked as Naruto. Naruto wasnā€™t thrilled to be sharing the same state of mindā€”not in this context. Not when Kakashiā€™s words came like a cold shower, snaking down Narutoā€™s spine and pooling in his stomach.
ā€œBecause all three of you are brats unfit for this job.ā€

Naruto barely registered Sasukeā€™s movement when he lunged at the teacher, and he couldnā€™t even imagine the move Kakashi used to throw him to the ground within moments. ā€œThatā€™s why I say youā€™re all amateurs,ā€ he insisted while Sakura screamed for Sasukeā€™s safety.
He hadnā€™t said anything, though, about Naruto being tied to the stump, bound like a criminal. Like a beast. Like the thing that twisted through his thoughts, kept him warm, whispering docile and maternal violent lullabies. He could have broken, torn those ropes if he had wanted to. He knew he could because he had done it before. But he was afraidā€”afraid his teammates would slap the same label on him that the village had stuck on him since childhood.

ā€œWhat kind of idea do you have about the ninja profession, huh?ā€ Kakashi was speaking again, still bent over Sasukeā€™s body. ā€œWhy do you think you were divided into groups for this exercise?ā€
Was there a specific reason? Genin teams were always composed of three people, werenā€™t they? Had he missed something by not attending the academy? Yet Sakura and Sasuke seemed just as confused as he was.
ā€œYou didnā€™t understand anything about the solution to this exam,ā€ Kakashi scolded them, his severe tone another blow that hit Naruto like a knife to an open wound.
What solution could there possibly be? How could three genin counter the skills of a jonin, no matter what?

In the silence, Kakashi concluded his explanation: ā€œTeamwork. If you had attacked me together, maybe you could have taken the bells.ā€
Naruto froze behind the ropes. He wasnā€™t necessarily opposed to the idea of teamworkā€”far from itā€”but how could he succeed at it with someone who didnā€™t trust him, out of prejudice or sheer disinterest? Sakura tried her best, nearly shouting, to point out to Kakashi that, regardless of everything, there were still only two bells. But Kakashi remained unfazed.

ā€œThe test was deliberately designed to make you fight among yourselves. In situations like these, you must cooperate, regardless of personal gain.ā€ Sensible, fair, but still unachievable. When Kakashi began describing precisely what they had done wrong, the sensation at the back of Narutoā€™s throat grew even more unpleasant.

ā€œYou, Sakura, instead of thinking about Naruto, who was in front of you, focused only on Sasuke without even knowing where he was.ā€ First blowā€”Sakuraā€™s indifference.

ā€œYou, Naruto, recklessly charged ahead alone.ā€ Second blowā€”his own incompetence.

ā€œAnd finally, you, Sasuke, did the same solo act because you believed your two teammates were just dead weight.ā€ Third blowā€”his inadequacy compared to Sasukeā€™s strength.

Naruto felt as if he were the only one truly struck by every word from the teacher, who still hadnā€™t finished his speech. The expression on his face grew even darker, more severe than it had been so far.

ā€œIndividualism that corrupts teamwork endangers your companions.ā€ Kakashi pulled a shuriken from his pouch, pointing it at Sasukeā€™s throat.
ā€œSakura, kill Naruto, or Iā€™ll kill Sasuke.ā€ As he issued the order, the tip of the weapon grazed Sasukeā€™s flesh, drawing a hiss from the boy. Naruto found himself silently grateful that Sakura appeared at least troubled by the idea of killing him.
ā€œSee? This is what happens. Youā€™re forced to make an impossible decision after someone takes a hostage.ā€ Kakashi straightened from Sasukeā€™s back, stretching his spine. ā€œAnd this leads to someoneā€™s death.ā€

He stepped several paces away. Naruto had to squint to follow him with his gaze despite the sun. Before the teacher stood a massive rectangular stone, inscribed with numerous tight, thin lines.

ā€œOn this stone are engraved the names of those this village calls ā€˜heroes.ā€™ā€
Narutoā€™s response was instinctive, uncontrolled, slipping from his lips before he could realize he had said it: ā€œOne day, my name will be written there too. Iā€™ll be a hero too!ā€
They werenā€™t words spoken with malice, but Kakashi seemed displeased nonetheless.
ā€œThese arenā€™t heroes like the others,ā€ he admonished, enough to make Naruto press his lips together again, silent. ā€œThey are heroes who fell during missions.ā€ Oh.

ā€œEven my best friendā€™s name is engraved on this stone.ā€ Oh. Naruto had messed up, hadnā€™t he? He had said the wrong thing again, in the wrong context. He received more disapproving looks.
He found himself wondering if Iruka hadnā€™t lied when he said he believed in him, if he hadnā€™t just wanted to indulge his childish dream. He tried to straighten on the stump, but hunger made his knees weak, and disappointment didnā€™t encourage him at all. Even when Kakashi promised to give them one last chance, the news was met with only partial enthusiasm: Naruto, as the loser of the first challenge, wouldnā€™t be allowed to eat. He would have to face the exercise with a rumbling stomach, a weak body from fasting, and the anxiety of being at the greatest disadvantage.

Not to mention how Kakashi had threatened to fail them automatically if they decided to give him food in secret. Naruto would also have to watch them eat, trying to fight the voices, the impulses, that manifested most strongly in moments of difficulty.
Break free.
Break free from the ropes and eat until youā€™re full.
They canā€™t stop youā€”not them, not Kakashi.
Voices that sounded dangerously like his own, that had been there for years, as long as he could remember.
They had never hated him, only helped him survive day by day.

But now, he could no longer trust them. Not after knowing what they represented. Not when they were a threat to those around him and the entire village.

Kakashi left the field with long, uninterested strides, not before casting them one last stern look. They remained three: Naruto still tied, Sakura and Sasuke eating from a bowl of hot, steaming rice. Naruto closed his eyes, turning his head away to avoid the fragrant smell of the dish. Was it seasoned with meat? It seemed delicious, despite its simplicity. Naruto would have killed for a bowl of ramen at that moment.
The smell grew closer, too close, until he forced himself to open his eyes only to find chopsticks extended toward him, a piece of meat held precisely between them.
To his surprise, it was Sasuke offering it. Sakura seemed as stunned as he was, her eyebrows furrowed on her broad forehead, and a bite left unfinished.

ā€œHere,ā€ Sasuke seemed to invite him. It was the first time he had spoken to him voluntarily. Naruto felt that same pleasant twist inside him. ā€œI canā€™t feel his presence in the field anymore. Letā€™s regain our strength, and this afternoon, weā€™ll take the bells.ā€
Naruto hesitated, staring at the morsel from above, his fingers twitching at his sides. Sasuke turned back to face him, black eyes like stones meeting blue eyes like the summer sky.
It was as if something clicked into place, as if a pool of warm solace gathered in his chest, making it easier to breathe.
ā€œHungry, youā€™d just be a burden.ā€ Harsh words, no kinder than anything Sasuke had said in the past, but Sasuke had taken a risk for him. Sasuke was jeopardizing his ninja career for him. A blush rose unbidden to his cheeks, embarrassed, as he leaned forward to finally take the piece of spiced meat. The flavor, though now lukewarm, melted on his tongue like a drop of honey. He closed his eyes, satisfied, before noticing that even Sakura was offering him a bite. Strangely, Narutoā€™s gaze remained fixed on Sasuke. Every time he swallowed a bite, something inside him urged him to watch, to wait until a puzzled and bored glance gave him permission to continue.

He stopped only when his belly was full, and Kakashi, appearing out of nowhere, declared their immediate promotion.
Amidst the stunned astonishment, hearing his explanation, less severe and harsh than before, felt like a balm: ā€œNinjas must act unpredictably. In the ninja world, those who break rules and laws are considered scum, but those who disregard their comrades are the worst kind of scum.ā€

When he forced himself to hold his breath again, Naruto realized it was to avoid bursting into tears of joy this time.