Humanity's rare representation in the more supernatural side of life. They are few. They are hidden. They are the shinobi.

The maintenance and balance of the human race is what they strive for, goals that are secondary to remaining in the shadows.

Theirs is a methodical organization; every individual is carefully analyzed according to projected talent, potential for growth, and retention of the shinobi's strict discipline. Initial practitioners of the harsh discipline undergo difficult testing and rigorous training in order to be eligible for the rank of Genin. From there, the ranks are appointed according to merit: a reputable action as well as sufficiently shown potential and loyalty results in genuine consideration for promotion to Chunin, and, from there, Jonin, a rank reserved for the most elite. The one who most closely embodies the integral traits of the shinobi, the one who is the most respected and acknowledged among his fellow shinobi is the one who is the indisputable leader of the Shinobi Organization: the Kage. Beneath him are his handpicked ANBU: the elite shinobi who are never seen yet are always present around the Kage.

Their fighting styles are varied and finely crafted through centuries of battle on the home-front. Whenever a skirmish of the Fallen Angels, Angels, and Devils spilled over to the human realm, the shinobi forces were humanity's unsung heroes.

Chakra is the basis of the shinobi's power. It enables them to perform feats unimaginable to the average human. Mastery of chakra requires years of strict training and constant usage. Chakra is something that needs to be cultivated through significant life experiences. These experiences act as enablers for the potential shinobi. These experiences activate the dormant power unique to the shinobi. From there, that human has an obligation to become a practitioner of the shinobi discipline. Whether he/she becomes an actual shinobi is to be determined.

This organization, however, is not without latent faults in the personage of some.

There have been certain shinobi who were unwilling to abide by the strict discipline. They often were the types that found the shinobi lifestyle and all its entailed secrecy and shadowy existence to be wearisome and thankless. They strove for something beyond what the shinobi discipline could offer. They had self-righteous ambitions. They had dreams of universal peace between all races with the Shinobi Organization spearheading the cause. Their motivations were almost always entirely at odds with that of the Shinobi Organization.

And so, they were silenced.

However, there is a wild card in their ranks, an issue that cannot be handled in the same concise manner as the other cases.

"I'm gonna be the best damn being in the whole universe!"

The shinobi with the motormouth, unbalanced chakra, and incalculable potential, not unlimited or boundless potential, incalculable. Fluctuating. Unstable. Dangerous.

"Every living being's gonna know this gorgeous face. The guys'll go nuts when they hear my name, and the chicks'll get a little weak in the knees."

His chakra isn't the only innate danger; his boisterous personality and aspirations are arguably more detrimental to the Shinobi Organization.

"I'll hit that top spot one day, and I'll never look back."

Naruto Uzumaki. Constantly fluctuating. Indescribably unstable. Unbelievably dangerous.

Naruto DxD: The Pleasure Principle

Prologue: Ain't Like the Rest of 'Em

One year old. A blond child giggles as his mother combs his normally untamed hair. He chants the word "mine" like a mantra while he claps his hands. His mother chuckles at the young boy's antics. The child makes a bit of a fuss, grabbing for the comb in his mother's hand. His mother, curious about her baby's actions, allows him to take the comb. She watches with a smile as he clumsily runs the comb through his hair while uttering a sound reminiscent to his own name. When he finishes, he makes a funny face in front of the mirror and shifts his stance slightly, giving his mother the image of a confident pose. She laughs. This is the first time she realizes how truly unique her child is.

Three years old. A blond toddler grins as he watches his mother go through her daily training. He admires his mother more than anyone else he has ever met. Truthfully, he hasn't met very many people. He and his mother generally keep to themselves, but of all the people in his village that he's met in passing, his mother is still the coolest person out there. Sometimes, his mother looks so sad, and that makes the toddler sad, as well. He wishes he could make her smile as much as she makes him smile. An idea runs through his mind, and he latches onto it. He cups his hands in front of his mouth and shouts a hearty cheer for his mother. She looks over, clearly surprised. Slowly, a brilliant smile appears on her face. Then, her eyebrows and mouth reflect determination, and she puts forth even more effort into her training. The blond toddler thinks this makes her look even cooler.

Seven years old. A young blond boy worries his mother. In the day, he was his normal, exuberant self. By the evening, he is subdued. She asks him what is troubling him. He freezes. Then, he shakes his head. He pokes around at his food during dinner, and during the night, his mother can hear him fussing in his sleep. Then, she feels it. She jumps out of her bed, and quickly walks to her son's room. She recognizes it. She hesitates at the door before making her way to his bed. She shakes him lightly. He awakens with a jolt, tears in his eyes. She brushes the tears away and hugs him. He clings to her and lets out a sob that rattles his mother's heart. She wishes he would be more forthcoming with his troubles. Two mornings later, the boy is seemingly back to normal. It is still very much present.

Seven years old. A young blond boy shifts nervously in the examination room. Men and women in black look at him strangely before leaving the room and closing the door behind them. They talk outside. They are louder than they believe themselves to be. The boy could faintly hear their words; he only could understand some of what they say. According to them, he is an "anomaly." He looks over to his mother who is holding his hand and asks her what the word means.

Seven years old. A young blond boy struggles to hold back his tears. His mother told him he absolutely is not allowed to leave the house. The boy asked if it is because he is an "anomaly." His mother didn't respond. These days, his mother looks sadder than she's ever been. Sometimes, the boy catches her holding a picture and speaking to it as if speaking to a person.

Ten years old. A young blond boy concentrates deeply. His mother is currently away. He applies everything his mother has been teaching him in secret. He reaches deep within himself for the feeling his mother described. It is fleeting. It eludes his grasp. Then, suddenly, it makes itself readily available. The boy grasps the feeling tightly, but it fights against him and manages to escape his grasp. The boy snaps out of his retrospection, breathing heavily. He freezes. Faint footsteps quickly approach his room. Before the boy even has the chance to move or make a sound, he is apprehended.

Fifteen years old. A blond teen stares defiantly from the inside of a cell at his guard. He gives a flippant remark. The guard has heard it all before. Another boast from the teen. A scoff from the guard. To the teen, the self-assured comments are promises. To the red-haired teen in the cell beside his, the comments are inspiring.

Fifteen years old. A blond teen and a red-haired teen sail in a rowboat under cover of a nighttime fog. The red-haired teen is solemn, inside and out. The blond teen is restless. He talks through the entire voyage. Even when the red-haired teen falls asleep, the blond teen keeps talking, not to the red-haired teen and not quite to himself. He grips the large sum of money his mother gave him prior to his escape as he talks about happier years. He talks about his mother training. He talks about how much he loved her smile. Then, he talks about the incident eight years ago that changed his life forever. He talks about his mother silently suffering. He talks about his own silent suffering. He talks about the isolation he was subjected to. He smiles as he talks about the secret teaching sessions with his mother. He frowns as he talks about his imprisonment. He smirks as he talks about the future. The red-haired teen stirs in his sleep.

"Damn, I'm so hungry!" Naruto said, flicking his blond bangs away from his blue eyes. He slumped down in the rowboat and groaned. "I don't know, man. Jail... jail's looking pretty good right now."

"I don't understand how you can say that," Gaara said in his usual inexpressive tone. His red hair blew with the cool sea breeze as he turned his pale blue stare upon his companion. "You always talk about how much you hated it there."

"At least I got fed on the daily back in the cell. Food wasn't too crappy, either," Naruto said before his stomach rumbled loudly.

Gaara held a ration bar in front of Naruto's face.

"Get that freeze-dried foot-tasting shit out of my face this instant, young man."

Gaara lowered the ration bar and went back to rowing.

A silence spread between the two.

"You know I'm joking, right?"

Gaara looked over at Naruto.

"Like, the world could just end right in front of us. I'm talking a black hole sucking everything up a couple meters in front of our faces," Naruto said, pointing ahead at the steady blue waters. "I still wouldn't turn back."

Gaara looked back at the water ahead of him and continued rowing diligently, a small smile now on his face.

"But I'll be going back there, one day." Naruto stood and turned to the direction from where they set sail.

"Why?"

"For my mom," Naruto responded immediately. "No way in hell am I letting her stay in that place. People like us, man...People like you, me, and her... there ain't a damn thing worth while for us back on that island."

"When that time comes, I will accompany you."

Naruto turned around to face Gaara who was still rowing calmly. "You're serious, aren't you?"

Gaara nodded. "You are the reason why I saw fit to leave. I believe that I will lead a much more enjoyable life away from that island. You have been the catalyst for this beneficial change in my life, and I believe that is grounds for gratitude. That is how I will show you how grateful I am."

Naruto stared at Gaara's back for a moment, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open slightly. "Whoa, Gaara. Have I told you yet that you're a total bro and the best friend that I've ever had?"

"I believe I am the only you've ever had."

"You're going to go there? Kick some dirt in my face while you're at it," Naruto said, glaring at Gaara through squinted eyes. He scoffed and turned his head away obstinately. "Whatever, I still say you're a bro."

It became silent, again.

"Well, in any case, until I decide it's time to go back and get my mom," Naruto said, smirking at the sea ahead of him, "I'm going to live it up like a fiend on the other side. See the real world, meet new people, find myself a beautiful chick to get frisky with, get stronger, get my mom back, become the greatest being of all time, and... and... profit, I guess," he finished lamely.

"That sounds quite enjoyable. I am looking forward to what awaits us on the other side of this sea," Gaara said. Naruto noticed Gaara tiring, so he took the red-haired teen's place rowing. "This water, it is like a bridge. From despair to hope, we are taking the journey into the unknown. I do not know what we will see when we arrive, but I am exhilarated and pleased that I am not alone in this journey."

Naruto flicked an imaginary tear from his eye and sniffled. "Oh, Gaara. You and your words. You're right on the money, man. We're going to take the world by the balls and seize the life we should've had a long, long time ago," Naruto said. Then, he punched his right fist into his left palm. "You're exhilarated? Well, I'm fucking stoked. Let's go!" He threw his hands in the air and shouted freely. Even Gaara couldn't contain his excitement as his arm rose with a clenched fist to join Naruto's raised limbs.

Black tomoes in red eyes spun furiously. The black-haired man called forth his loyal standing forces, his ANBU. They appeared in an instant, addressing the man as Lord Kage. He spoke his orders in a controlled voice that betrayed his anger. The ANBU went forth, hell-bent on completing the orders.

For the sake of the Shinobi Organization, for sake of remaining hidden in the shadows, Naruto Uzumaki could not be allowed to live anywhere except in confinement on the island, and anyone who aided in his escape could not be allowed to live.

Okay, readers, that's what I have for you for the day: an idea spawned during a game of beer pong and written that same night, something I hope gets you excited enough to follow this story's progress. Vague framing of events, powerful optimistic statements, and grave situations; I hope they're all enjoyably confusing.

Til next time.