Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Kishimoto.
AN: Have fun!
Chapter One
I am the keeper, I am the secret.
I am the answer, I am the end.
On Mount Myōboku, where the normal garden plant was as tall as a house, and mountains assumed shapes one could only appreciate after a few good cups of Rakaji, a little orange toad with a blue vest dreamt of greatness. Which was too bad, because Gamakichi didn't feel great at all, perching in the cool shade of a moss-covered pillar that had fallen down some centuries ago.
"It is every toad's business to guard the elder," Gamabunta had said.
Guard the elder my webbed foot! Pops looked too deeply into the bottle, that's all.
Gamakichi caught a fly with a lazy flick of his tongue. What was there to guard? The elder toad-sage was at the most secure place in all the world. Who'd attack him?
"They wouldn't even find the way here," he muttered, savoring his catch. Meaty. He looked up at the broad stairs that led to the platform on which the elder was lazing on his pillow—as he had done for centuries.
I'll never become an elder toad. Too boring. Far too boring.
"Oya, oya, oya," said the elder all of a sudden.
Gamakichi twitched. He wouldn't fall for this anymore. Every time the elder made any noise, he listened, hoping to hear something interesting: a story, a song—the elder had a surprisingly good voice—but for the most part it was just the ordinary business of a toad's life, even an old one's: burping, groaning as one turned around in the sun to tan the other side, and the occasional fart. Not very sage-like. Not at all.
This time, however, the elder didn't just turn and fell asleep again. He continued in a sweet, swaying voice: "Oya, oya, oya. What is this? What is this?"
The elder sat up laboriously on the pillow and leapt with surprising strength from the platform, landing in front of Gamakichi. The necklace of human-sized pearls around his neck was glittering and flashing in the sunlight, most of all the big orb at its very center. The usually tired eyes were wide open, giving Gamakichi a sidelong glance.
"Oya," the elder said again, then leapt once more, setting the world to tremble. Sitting as he'd always been, he'd never seemed that big to Gamakichi.
Something's happening! Finally! And I'll be the first to see it. Pops will flip when I tell him!
With an excited spring in his leap, Gamakichi jumped after the elder. He followed him down the mountain upon the mountain, then through a small valley—until they stopped before the lake where the first toad of all had washed itself long ago.
Without any explanation, the elder took off his necklace and hurled it into the lake. Then he stared at the water, murmuring to himself.
Why'd he do that? There ought to be something happening. He's never done that before.
Gamakichi was straining to see if there was anything freakish going on, something amazing that justified all the hours spent guarding the elder.
Seconds turned to minutes, turned to more than that.
Gamakichi's shoulders slumped. Of course nothing's happening. Nothing ever happens when I'm around. With a sigh he pulled a short-stemmed pipe from a pocket in his vest. He funneled chakra into the chamber, where a seal would fill it automatically with tobacco. Smoke soon was curling around him, smelling very sweet. Berries. His favorite.
"Oya."
Gamakichi puffed on his pipe, drawing out the blueberry taste. You're mocking me, aren't you?
Suddenly he heard a faint popping. And another. A third, a fourth, a fifth, soon more than he could count, for his webbed hands had only so many fingers.
Then came a loud, enduring hissing, as if all the snakes of Ryūchi Cave had invaded Myōboku. But they wouldn't dare. Not here.
Gamakichi hopped closer to the elder; his face slackened. He had to chomp down hard on the stem of his pipe to keep it from falling out of his mouth.
The lake was boiling. Bubbles rose to the surface, burst, were replaced by others. The elder's expression was focused, and . . . afraid?
Something's not right. Why'd he be afraid? He's the goddamn elder! He's seen creation for centuries.
By now more toads were arriving as well, drawn to the steam whirling up from the lake in large eddies, like hazy pillars holding up the sky.
A tremor ran through Gamakichi. An unbelievable power had touched his senses for a moment. The lake. There the power was unfolding, pressing up from beneath the center of the water, coming closer . . . closer . . . closer.
"Back!" Gamakichi cried out, leaping away.
All toads followed; all but the elder toad, who stood his ground. With a roar the water shot up, high into the sky. Until it seemed as if there was no sky anymore, just the water, searing droplets announcing a wave that would leave them with burn marks for decades to come.
We won't make it! We won't—
The elder lifted his webbed hands. Agile, each stroke precise, he sketched figures in the air, blue lines of chakra following his deft motions. It was the quickest seal Gamakichi had ever seen.
The elder's power rose to match the unnatural force in the lake. A shiver ran through the ground. The earth fissured around the elder.
His seal flared a bright golden, stretched and stretched some more, expanding to enormous size and catching the water like a fish between its wobbling symbols. There was a struggle, then the net pushed against the water, drove it away. With a disturbing noise it flooded back into the basin.
As if the world had restored itself to order, all was over, all was still—all but the strained breathing of the elder.
Hovering peacefully above the surface of the becalmed water was the main pearl of the elder's necklace. The elder stretched out his arm. The pearl shot across the lake, into his waiting hand.
He uttered another "Oya," then tipped backwards, his massive body crashing onto the ground.
There was a great commotion afterwards in which the healer toads did their best, and the other elders cared for the wisest of them all.
Gamakichi's knobby knee stung where a hot drop had hit him. It would've burned us. It would've burned us all! Then he saw all the toads circling the elder. He began pushing through the smaller ones, leaping past the big ones. Pops isn't around. Time to get a better look. Earned it, haven't I? I was the first one here after all!
When he was almost through the ranks of toads, the elder spoke, his voice thin and weak, "Call Jiraiya-chan. I must to talk to him. We all must talk to him."
Then the elder fell unconscious.
The afternoon sun beat down hard on the students as they ran their laps in the backyard of the Academy. At every clap of Iruka's hands they ran a little faster. In the still, hot air, all that could be heard were labored breaths and their sandals slapping the ground, whirling up dust.
Clap.
"Don't fall behind now, Naruto. You're almost done."
"Yes, sensei."
His neck slick with sweat, Naruto drew level with the others. The third time now he'd heard the clap but failed to speed up, his mind on other things.
When he caught up to Kiba they exchanged grins. In a little while operation Refreshment would start. He'd finally get the chance to infiltrate the teachers library, where Jiji had told him stood a special shelf. And on that shelf he'd find a book about the Uzumaki—all his if he could get his fingers on it without getting caught.
For two months he'd spent his afternoons staking out the Academy instead of fishing at the river with Chōji and Shikamaru. He'd pulled so many all-nighters on sealing—reading scrolls by some cranky old shrew who knew many long words but couldn't for the life of her write a clear sentence—that he now feared his eyes would keep their red rims permanently, like a frog with makeup. His fingers were itching to get started. How was he supposed to focus on Iruka's clapping?
Clap.
"What did I say, Naruto?"
"I'm running already," Naruto said, rolling his eyes. Make that a fourth time.
Iruka liked clapping that day. He always liked it, of course, more so when the days were hot and not a single breeze rustled the tall oaks and beeches collaring the backyard. But today his hands took such a liking to one another, it struck Naruto as especially ominous, or cruel— probably both.
Does he know? But he hasn't said anything, so maybe he doesn't know. Just keep it cool, Uzumaki. It'll work out.
A last clap, then they ended their laps. As one entity the class lurched over to the benches that sat against the back wall of the Academy. There, blatantly favored by their gender, all boys got rid of their sweat-stiffened shirts, changing in new ones they'd prepared beforehand; while the girls glared at them—or swooned at them (but most glared)—waiting for Iruka to end the lesson formally, so that they could get changed as well inside.
That wouldn't do. Once Iruka let out for the day he'd have idle time on his hands. Can't let him have that or he'll crop up somewhere and ruin this.
Right now, Chōji was running interference, keeping Iruka on the tracks with inane questions about pacing oneself while running and eating at the same time.
In his fresh black shirt Naruto slid down on the bench next to Kiba and Akamaru. "Ready?" he said, scratching Akamaru's neck. Gentle yipping answered him. Good. Dog and boy were with him. Or was it dog and dog?
Kiba rubbed his hands together. "It'll be a great diversion, just you wait," he said in a low whisper. "I've got it all planned out with Shikamaru. The bombs, the water, the color: everything."
"And if you keep babbling," Shikamaru said next to them, "they'll notice that something's up. "
"Thanks, guys," Naruto said. "Barbecue's on me," he added proudly. He'd saved parts of his allowance for weeks just for this. Meat was just too damn expensive. "Wish me luck."
Iruka was coming towards the benches now, Chōji trailing behind him. His teacher-eyes were sparkling. Full of promise for what he could do in his after-work hours.
Poor Iruka-sensei. But it's for a good cause. He'd understand.
"Well, class, that was—"
Kiba leapt from the bench with an ululating war cry. He hurled his bag for changing clothes at the ground, formed a seal. "Kai!"
The bag went up in a blast of smoke that enveloped the whole yard. Naruto counted down from three, then snuck away from the benches, feeling his way along the wall to round the Academy. Better not get lost in the smoke. Once he'd cleared the gray clouds he entered through the window of the classroom which he'd left open on purpose beforehand.
Kiba's voice reached inside even, though slightly dulled. "Get them! The ladies need some refreshments!"
Next come the water bombs. Then the color.
Everyone in on the plan had brought some, and in the smoke none but Kiba could be implicated. And Kiba didn't care anyway, since he was awesome like that and his mother always thought he was just being a boy.
As Naruto reached the hallway, the outcries of the girls rang loud and clear. He pressed a hand to his mouth, suppressing a giggle. Next time he'll be right there with them; but for now, family came first. The book about the Uzumaki that Jiji had told him about was so close he could already feel its soft pages under his fingertips.
Cautiously Naruto made his way through the hallways. Tsuba-sensei always let out his class on time, so Naruto had to wait for him to leave before he could move on. Distance: one hallway away. That was what Shikamaru had calculated for a teacher average at sensing people. Only Oka-sensei was bad at it. He'd tested that quite extensively whistling after her and then hiding. With everyone else he kept to a safe distance and the times he'd gathered.
He was close to the last hallway now, having circled the smoker's lounge where most teachers met. Probably got something to do with nerves. They're all addicted anyway. Well, all but Iruka-sensei and Oka-sensei. Urgh. Don't lose your focus now, Uzumaki. This is where it counts!
Here, on this last stretch, all classes were over already, and Oka-sensei would not leave her separate office for another ten minutes. Naruto crept along the hallway, toward the unimposing door at the end of it. He'd never actually seen anyone walk in there. What if Jiji was playing a trick on him?
Nah, not the old man. He's got—
A strange moan came from behind the door to Oka-sensei's office. Naruto stilled, listened. But he couldn't quite make out why Oka-sensei would make such a noise.
Is she okay? Is this always happening? Damn, I've been too far away on my stakeouts to hear this.
The moaning went on and on, grew louder, quieter, then louder again.
His breath eased. This seemed to be alright. Distracting, but doable. He went past the office to the door at the end of the corridor.
This was it. The last step. He pulled out a rectangular slip of paper. This little thing and the squiggles he had brushed on it had cost him so much sleep, it was almost too precious to use it up. But Shikamaru was right. Such an important room would have at least a minor detection seal applied somewhere—which made this beauty, the de-sealer as Kiba had dubbed it, the real prize of this beautiful afternoon.
Naruto stuck the de-sealer on the door. For a long moment he did nothing, waiting for a claxon to blare and ANBU—or at least some teachers—to take him. Nothing happened.
Got it! He crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him. He had three minutes. Whatever Oka-sensei was doing, she always left her office at the exact same time for dinner, later to return for the evening civilian classes. Need to be out by then. But three minutes should be enough. Let's see. That's not it. Nope. That isn't it either. And over there?
"Are you looking for something specific?"
Naruto's hand came to rest on the smooth spine of a book. Behind him, Iruka was leaning against the doorframe, eyebrows raised.
Naruto bit down the groan, though he couldn't help the way his arms slid away from the bookcase and now flopped near his hips. He'd been so close. So close!
"Come," Iruka said, nodding toward the hallway. "Let's leave those books alone for now. You can read them once you've made Chūnin."
Naruto trudged past him, out of the room. Stupid Iruka. Why's he always getting in the way? How's he even here? That's not normal, that is.
They came by Oka-sensei's office again. Another moan. Growing red in the face, Iruka hurried Naruto past the door, toward another hallway.
Hiruzen was sitting behind his sturdy oaken desk when Iruka entered the office. Iruka, in the manner befitting a dutiful shinobi, waited five steps away from the desk for him to finish. The rich evening sun set the ink on the paperwork to glitter. Hiruzen put his seal on the bottom of the paper. He strew sand across it, blew once, furled it, tied it with waxen twine, put the scroll away.
The interruption was welcome. Iruka looked at ease, and that could only mean that something of minor consequence had happened. But minor consequence was convenient. Minor consequence gave him the opportunity to leave the paperwork well alone for the day.
Wind gusted through the open window, sending loose parchment fluttering to the ground. Yet with the grace of a man who cared none at all for such trivialities, Hiruzen rose from his chair and walked past the mess on his carpet. Tomorrow morning it would lay stacked on his table again—it always did.
"Come, Iruka," he said, "let us walk a bit. You can tell me what happened on the way."
They had left the Hokage Tower behind them and were walking through the streets of Konoha when Iruka began talking. "Naruto tried breaking into the teacher's library today. I suspect a few of the boys in his class helped him, but they've denied it fiercely when I asked." Iruka scratched the back of his head. "It was quite the prank. It gave Naruto a perfect opportunity to slip away. Kiba made such a spectacle out of himself though, it's hard to draw any other conclusion but them covering for him. Subtlety isn't their strong suit."
"Only the boys participated?" Hiruzen asked, smiling at an awed vendor who pressed an apple into his hand, ripe and shining.
"I'd be surprised if the girls had been in on it too. They were rather the victims."
"Do you think there will be problems with their parents?"
"Not more than usual, Hokage-sama. And I don't think all of the boys participated either. It was effective, yes, but far too crude. Chōji I know of: he was stalling for time. In any case, I'll have a talk with Tsume and Chouza. I would go to Shikaku, too, but honestly, I'm not sure whether Shikamaru was involved. If he'd had a hand in this, the plan would've been more polished in its execution."
"Perhaps," Hiruzen said, taking a bite out of the apple. Though with a Nara it's always safer to assume one's being fooled.
They walked in companionable silence down Konoha's main thoroughfare, then turned into one of the narrower streets. Shirts and towels swayed on the clotheslines above them as light wind swept through the alley. A dog barked one corner away; somewhere a door was shut forcefully, before a childish voice apologized with a giggle. The voice of Konoha.
Presently they were strolling alongside the Naka River that snaked through Konoha. Hiruzen put the apple core into a pocket of his robe. He could plant it later somewhere.
"And Naruto?" he said, sitting down on a bench before the river and laying down his hat. "Did he make it?"
"He did, but the seal alerted me immediately. I caught him rifling through the books. He was quite put out when I marched him out of there."
"Understandably so. Imagine the work it must've taken to convince so many to his cause. Quite the achievement, I have to say."
"I think it's got more to do with the book he was looking for than the amount of time he spent preparing. May I speak freely, Hokage-sama?"
"Of course," Hiruzen said, waving at a pair of children lazing on the riverbank, their fishing rods stuck between small stones to keep them in place.
"When you asked me to put that book there, I wasn't sure why. But now that Naruto tried to steal it, might do so again for all I know . . ." Iruka hesitated, then straightened his shoulders. His voice was firm. "Why not give it to him directly? The seal is nothing an academy student can crack. He was bound to fail. Excuse me, Hokage-sama, but to be frank, this seems like a very cruel test to me."
"You underestimate him, Iruka. But you're right: it was a difficult objective. But the life of a shinobi is full of such things. Cruel? If so, then not by design. I merely wished to challenge him a little. He's not made much trouble in class lately, has he?"
"He was a bit absentminded, but not disruptive, no."
"Then I'd consider everything to have worked out well enough," Hiruzen said, stretching out his old legs. The sun was warming his face, and he smiled as a pair of butterflies hovered close to his hat, then settled on it. "He spent time with his friends, created a plan with them, and worked hard to reach his goal. That is plenty."
"And the book? They will graduate in two weeks. Do you think he'll try again?"
"I would hope so, but by then it won't be there anymore. There are no repeats when it comes to the work of a shinobi. This was, after all, a sanctioned E-rank. The first top-secret E-rank in Konoha's history at that. The archivers will have a nice time puzzling that one out when they see the bound mission scroll." Hiruzen chuckled. "No, if he wants the book—an officially sealed document that no shinobi below the rank of Chūnin has access to—then he has to earn it the old-fashioned way. I'll think about where to hide it next, and how to raise the difficulty a bit."
Iruka tensed beside him, and Hiruzen smiled to himself. I've chosen a good man for the Academy.
"The book is about the Uzumaki," Iruka said evenly. "The knowledge is his by right of birth."
"And he will learn all about it in time. Either when he manages to steal the book, or when he makes Chūnin. Those are his options. Though personally I believe he is capable enough to get it while still a Genin. There's a certain craftiness in him that lends itself to such endeavors."
Iruka stood. "Of course, Hokage-sama," he said, clipped, unable to keep the displeasure entirely out of his voice. "If you'll excuse me, I have to pay some parents a visit."
"Go on, then, Iruka. Better start with Tsume first. We'll have a full moon today; it's hard to reach her when she's in a trance."
Iruka nodded stiffly, left. Hiruzen looked at his retreating back, then took up his hat. There were few men with enough love for their students to go up against their Hokage. Once found, one shouldn't let go of them.
In a few years, Iruka, you might even be ready to become the new head of the Academy. For now though, continue to care for your students as best you can. That's a path that'll never lead you astray.
Almost never. But those were thoughts for another day. Under the setting sun and the purple-bruising sky, Hiruzen rose from the bench. Time to visit Naruto. Some Ramen ought to cheer him up.
Naruto was sitting on his bed, staring at the de-sealer. It was dark outside, and the lamp above him shone on the slip of paper. He prodded the seal with his finger, pushed it a few inches to the right, then cocked his head sideways. The new perspective revealed nothing either.
"Stupid," he said, returning to his previous position. "Stupid, stupid, stupid." He ran his knuckles roughly over his head. "Why didn't you work? You were supposed to work! You stupid, little—"
Naruto twitched at a knock on the door. That'd be Jiji.
He crammed the seal into his pocket and padded with bare feet across the cold wooden floor. His place was a mess. The ground full of open books and scrolls, the wallpaper specked with ink, and the sink—that horrible place—naturally full of dirty dishes.
Another knock.
"I'm coming," Naruto called out from the kitchen, his foot hitting an open ink bottle. It tipped over, spreading dark and cold across the floor, seeping between his toes. "Ahh!" he cried. "No, no, no."
A third knock. "Naruto? Are you alright?" Hiruzen's muffled voice came through the door.
"Just a moment, give me a minute" Naruto said, casting his gaze about for paper towels. Finding none, he took empty milk cartons from his table, ripped them apart, and tried wiping the floor with them. Two minutes later he hadn't made much headway.
"I'm coming in," Hiruzen said. "How are you—Naruto! What in the world happened here?"
"This is really only half as bad as it looks, Jiji," Naruto said from the floor. "Spilled some ink, that's all."
"The rest of your place isn't what I'd call clean either."
"I never said it was. There, that should do it," Naruto said, taking a moment to look at the overlapping layers of milk carton that were soaking up the ink. He turned to Hiruzen. "I'm smelling Ramen, don't I? You're the best, Jiji! Sit down. I'll go wash my feet, then we can take this to the roof. Much cozier there. Clear sky, lots of stars tonight."
"I think I'll keep standing. If there is any place to sit down, I can't seem to find it beneath all the clothes and books."
Yeah? Well, I've got no grunts cleaning my place for me, like you, old man. Naruto hopped on his unstained foot over to the bathroom, taking care not to spread more ink across his floor.
When he came back from rinsing his feet with warm water, having scrubbed them slightly red, Hiruzen was still standing next to the kitchen table. He held one of the unfurled scrolls before him, inspecting it in the dim light of the lamp above. His hat shaded parts of his face. In his resplendent red and white robes he looked very much out of place in the chaos that was Uzumaki.
Naruto let slip a giggle. "I'm ready."
"Are you sure you don't want to clean up this mess before we go?" Hiruzen asked, gesturing at the ink-soaked cartons. "I've been wondering why you were so insistent lately that we go somewhere else . . . I guess now I know."
"I'll mop it up later, no sweat. Come on, Jiji. Nothing's worse than cold Ramen."
On the roof of the apartment building Hiruzen took off the robe and spread it out for them. It looked strange no matter how often Naruto saw it, but Jiji had assured him that it was perfectly alright—he had dutiful Genin who were washing his clothes for him. Still weird though. Very much so. He'd almost fallen unconscious the first time he saw the old man only in his black combat slacks.
Naruto settled back on his half of the robe, opening the Ramen container. He sure knows how to cheer me up though. Best present ever. He broke the chopsticks apart and dug in. It was a warm night with little wind—the perfect time for Ramen.
"I didn't get it," he said after a while, the aftertaste of the salty broth still in his mouth. "I don't know what went wrong. Iruka-sensei was just . . . there." After a pause he added, "He's always there when I want to do something. Always. It's like he's got some crazy power that makes him see everything."
"Good. That's what Konoha pays him for. I'd be quite put out if Iruka were wasting my money. Besides, you're supposed to study during class—even if it's math and not history or Ninjutsu." He laughed at Naruto's grimace. "I can assure you, it's entirely normal to feel that your teacher is everywhere and knows everything. And just between you and me"—he leaned closer and lowered his voice to a stage whisper—"I found it quite fun to be in a similar role once I had my first students. There's something wonderful about mystifying young people that you only understand once you're old."
Naruto pointed his chopsticks at him. "You're strange, Jiji, you know that? If you've got enough time to think of how to confuse people, better tell me a story or something. I think I can use a good one right now. Today was . . . not so good."
He gave Hiruzen a dogged grin. "But I'll get the book eventually, just you wait. And once I know all about my family they'll get the biggest entry in my book, and I'll hire a painter to have some amazing pictures to go with it."
"Oh? It sounds like your project's coming along nicely."
Naruto shrugged and looked up at the stars. 'Coming along nicely' might not be the best way to put it. For two years now he'd been working on Uzumaki's Book Of all The amazing History of The world—a title that arguably needed some work, especially in the way he capitalized words.
While writing and hounding the library though, he'd come to understand that history was a crammed mess of wishes, truths and lies, and lots of stuff in between. Everyone added a little bit of something, and the result wasn't much more to look at than a pair of pants patched up too often.
He pursed his lips at the memory of the last three accounts he'd read of the same intense battle. They didn't just write differently. Two weren't even on the same page about who won. That's like saying Sakura loves Sasuke, and then saying she doesn't. Makes no sense at all.
Since there was no answer forthcoming, Hiruzen soon broke into a story of his own about the treacherous marshes of Arikai; how the Nidame Hokage, when he couldn't move around them, had simply raised the sea until the marshes of Arikai were the lakes of Arikai, and his troops could pass without fearing an ambush.
What a way to get an edge. Must've been amazing to see.
Naruto looked at the moon, then at the constellation of the Great Cypress farther to the west, where the starlight stood a chance against the pale giant. Hiruzen's voice was soft, soothing, like the whispers of a very old tree. And as always when he was coming toward the end of his story, Naruto felt a strange emptiness inside him.
He wanted more. He needed the legends, the tales, the history of everything. There were simply too many stories to tell. And too little time to hear them all.
But first: the book about my family. Everything needs a good beginning. Specially a book about all that was.
Jiraiya followed Pa up the stairs to the mountain upon the mountain. Warm rain drummed on his back and hair, beaded down his brows. He'd never before seen it rain on Mount Myōboku.
"Is it really that bad?" he asked for the third time since Gamatosa had landed on the nubile courtesan sharing his bed in Takuzan-Gai. Her shrieks were still ringing in his ears. Pa had given him a rough explanation, but nothing concrete, nothing satisfying.
"The elder will tell you more, Jiraiya-chan."
An answer that said nothing. He was unused to Pa being flustered, and the pleasant smell of summer rain that was thickening with every step made him wary. Unusual seldom heralded nice tidings in the world of shinobi.
They arrived at the elder's resting place, where Ma was caring for him. She dipped a towel into a basin, rubbed his massive leg carefully. The sharp odor of medicine mixed into the rain. It took a second for Jiraiya to realize why all this looked like the world turned wrong.
He hurried up to the elder, his wooden geta clacking against stone.
Propped up against his pillow, the elder was wheezing. His skin was shriveled. Black and gray patches blotched it like lichen on rock. When he saw Jiraiya he lifted his hand, lost strength halfway through the motion, let it fall down again.
Jiraiya knelt next to Ma, inspecting the spots with a heavy, cruel sensation coiling in his stomach. "What happened?"
The elder let out a strangled chuckle. "Nature commands us, not the other way around, Jiraiya-chan. It is not to be leashed, not without consequences."
"I don't understand. You are nature. All of you."
"And yet this happened to me, oya."
"But why?"
The elder closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, they were clear, the pain gone. Held back by a will as ancient as Myōboku itself. God, what happened here?
"If we truly are nature, Jiraiya-chan, then there is but one force that can do this, I would think."
Jiraiya rose to his full height, towering above Ma and Pa. He stared up at the elder, who looked naked without his necklace. None of this made sense. For nature to act against its own, forcing a toad to move against it, was unprecedented.
"Please, elder, tell me what force you're talking about. I've never heard of anything like it. Have the other summoning clans attacked you? Is it of shinobi origin?"
"I would like to know that as well," said Pa, leaning on his cane. "What makes the lakes of Myōboku rise up in violence? It shouldn't be possible. Not in a holy place like ours. Here is where the first trees grew. Where the plants took their shape, and their shadows were made."
"He's right," said Jiraiya. "There should only be balance at the heart of creation."
"And yet there is not," the elder said. "What, then, Jiraiya-chan, has power enough to unsettle the balance of creation . . . but the creator itself? The one who made the trees, the plants, the shadows. The one who blew the clouds into existence. Who gave fire and water; formed the mountains, then us? It is all I can see of the future, one picture: a sprouting tree, a book, a boy. But oya, what a clear picture. So sharp. So unlike all other prophecy."
The elder smiled benevolently, yet his rotten, sick appearance and rattling breath sent a shiver down Jiraiya's spine. "You must bring the boy to me. Here to the mountain upon the mountain where creation began. Where it will change once more, for change is the nature of all things."
Jiraiya took a step back. Quietly he asked, "Which boy, elder one?" bracing himself for the answer.
"Can you not guess, Jiraiya-chan? I speak of the Child of Creation. For he is blue as water and bright as the sun; yet his core is the hardy rock of below, his fancy the wind, and once angered, his rage the fire that keeps this world alive. You know who it is . . . Bring"—the elder coughed, and it took him a while to recover from the sudden convulsion—"bring him here . . . so I . . . may talk to him."
"But—"
"Enough for now," Pa said, his expression grave. "Let the elder rest now."
Jiraiya stretched out his senses. The natural energy that coursed through every toad like lifeblood was threadbare and thin within the elder. All of it went to fighting the spread of decay on his skin. Jiraiya recoiled at the visceral, ugly impression that his senses burned into his mind.
After a hasty bow, he turned on his heel, strode away, faster, faster, until he was not so much walking but running, fleeing from what he'd just learned. He hurtled through the strange rain, his geta clattering, away from the sharp smell and all the bad tidings it foretold.
At the base of the stairs, he clenched his fists and stared straight up at the clouds. Warm drops hit his face
He wanted to shout. But anger wouldn't undo the past, or change the world by force alone. That he'd learned. Often; and often again.
The cool head wins. Always. Think this through. Then find your way.
He settled under a human-sized leaf, began stuffing his pipe. First drags followed. The tobacco set in.
Furious lakes, a world unbalanced—nothing of that matters a whit, he thought after a while, chewing on his pipe. All I have to do is make Naruto strong enough to whack the creator of the world a good one when they come along.
That ought to do the trick.
AN: That's it for the first chapter. Leave me a comment if you liked it. (The two lines at the start are from Les Friction.)