Chapter 4: Crouching Tiger

3/4 oz Lychee Liqour, 3/4 oz Silver Tequila, shaken (with ice), strained into chilled shot glass

Nothing was right. Nothing made sense. All foreknowledge is more or less worthless.

These thoughts pounded through Nanashi's head as he tried to process his current situation. He pieced together the information he was able to glean while living with the living Kushina Uzumaki who shouldn't be alive at all.

Manga: Yamato, formerly known as Tenzou, is a former ROOT agent and experiment by Orochimaru to cultivate the Mokuton in Konoha's forces.

Fact: He's actually the son of Tsunade, who is somehow already the fifth Hokage, and is a naturally born Mokuton user who just happens to be blond.

Manga: Minato and Kushina sacrificed their lives to seal the Kyuubi, which was released by a deranged Obito, into their newborn son.

Fact: Obito was forcibly controlled by Zetsu into releasing the Nine-Tails and burnt both himself and Zetsu alive with a focused Amaterasu. Minato was then able to safely seal the Kyuubi into his wife and child at the expense of his own life.

Conclusion: Fuck the Shinigami.

He angrily kicked a rock as he entered his designated training ground at 4 o'clock in the morning. Fucking insane Senju training habits. The rock flew across the wooded clearing and was nimbly caught by his appointed tutor, who hadn't even turned around.

"Good morning to you too, Nanashi," he blandly greeted, letting the rock roll to the ground.

The reborn soul grunted in response, doffing his jacket and throwing it haphazardly over a low-hanging branch. Instinctually, he slid into the various stretches that Yamato drilled as something of "utmost importance." The man, who was frustratingly earnest in his teachings, slid into the same stances, moving with his pupil in perfect synchronization.

"So, how goes your training with your chains."

"Bad."

Yamato pinched his nose before responding.

"And what seems to be the issue this time?"

Nanashi opened his mouth to respond but was cut off.

"And don't mention anything about a lack of alcohol."

The redhead scowled and narrowed his gaze at his teacher.

"It comes out as yarn still. I'm telling ya, my body only ever works properly when I have some of the gods' nectar flowing through my veins."

"And I'm telling you, that a true ninja doesn't rely on something that should be a trump card all the time. After all—"

"—something that boosts your performance works best when your base strength is up to par. I know, you fucking anal retentive tree hugger."

A nearby branch whipped forward, slapping the Uzumaki on the back of his neck. Yamato smirked at his student laying on the ground.

"I know you're still awake. Now c' mon, we're working on your chakra control today. If you're good, I'll take you to that ramen stand your cousin's always at."

When this elicited no response, the jonin sighed and continued.

"We can even work on that drunken fist style that Gai gave us scrolls for."

Nanashi rolled over, staring at his teacher's dark gaze. The bastard was getting too good at manipulating him. He groaned and sprung onto his feet.

"Fine, fine. What are we working on today? More leaf sticking?"

"No. I already know you can do that, you lazy bum. We're going to be learning tree walking today."

The drunk ambled over to the nearest tree, planting his foot at its base.

"What are you doing?"

"Practicing tree walking."

Nanashi paled as an unidentifiable but worrying glint passed through Yamato's eyes.

"Who said that we were going to practice here?"

The redhead sagged as the jonin picked him up by the scruff of the neck.

"We're going to my favorite training ground. I've already gained clearance from my mother to use it."

Without another word, the two disappeared in a swirl of leaves, a dusty jacket draped over a branch left as the only evidence that they were ever there.

Traveling via shunshin was uncomfortable to the point of nausea. Luckily, years of holding back alcohol-induced vomit were the only thing stopping Nanashi from unleashing his breakfast onto his mentor's flak jacket. He looked up to see Yamato's smug grin staring him down, sizing him up.

"Good. You didn't vomit all over me," the ex-ANBU stated matter of factly, with the sunlight somehow breaking through the thick canopy above perfectly enough to glare blindingly off of his happuri. "I'd have to find another way to worsen your punishment if you did."

"Wait, what am I being punished for?"

"I'll think up a good enough reason if you survive. Good luck. I'll be…" Yamata paused, drawing circles in the air, "around."

With a parting pat on his student's back, Yamato jumped into the thick foliage, blending into the mottled leaves. Nanashi glared up at the trees before reaching into his hidden pockets for his private stash, only to find…

Nothing.

After a quick rude gesture towards the direction that he felt his mentor's chakra trailing off to, Nanashi groaned and wandered around the forest, which looked oddly familiar, with its almost comically massive trees and vegetation.

Suddenly, his "secure location" was accosted by several strange chakra signatures. Off in the distance, several shadows sped through the somehow perfectly spaced branches. Something was off, Nanashi just knew it. He glared at the approaching figures suspiciously.

Then, it hit him.

The fun-sized alcoholic gasped in pain as a massive tiger pounced on him. He hurridly coated forearms with chakra as it attempted to rip his face off. He then made the chakra flow over his body, not unlike water, hoping to remove any possible friction between himself and the giant tiger. Unfortunately, Nanashi's experiments with chakra were limited to correlations with inebriation, so the most his panicked maneuver accomplished was irritating the jungle predator.

It growled in his face, covering his face with speckles of spittle. Ignoring the growing pain in his forearms, he clumsily channeled an exorbitant amount of chakra through his legs and pushed. He felt several cracks in his leg as the tiger's abdomen exploded in a burst of gore. He rolled the upper half of the beast off of his prone form and stumbled into a kneeling position. Several jolts of pain coursed through his right leg as he pushed himself up onto his feet. Eyeing the remaining tiger prowling around the clearing, Nanashi fumbled through his pouch for the bottles of sake he smuggled with him. To his dismay, he found a folded note in their place.

Can't have you relying on a crutch too much, kid. ~Yamato

He tore the note in half with a growl of frustration. He was like 6 years old! How was any of this OK? Ignoring the moral qualms of leaving a child in possession of liquor, he fumbled with his left sandal, while maintaining eye contact with the remaining tiger. With a puff of smoke, Nanashi summoned a flask in his hand. He quickly uncorked and downed the contents, allowing for the familiar warm sensation wash over his body, which began to lightly sway in place. Without missing a beat, he lobbed the flask at the tiger's face, making a sickening squelch echo through the trees as the feline's skull cracked under the weight of the metal flask.

Nanashi then stumbled over to the corpse, digging through the skeletal shrapnel for his prized possession, which he promptly sealed back into his ankle. Then, pulling out a kunai, he carved what meat he could from the corpse, nicking himself several times in the process. Groaning loudly, the shinobi-in-training fell on his ass, the pain from his bones resetting themselves with the alcohol flowing through his body forcing his chakra-fueled healing into overdrive. Various cuts and scrapes hissed and closed as the haunting feeling of sobriety began to creep into his psyche.

Once his wounds forcibly healed, he clumsily tried to start a fire from memory. However, his short stint in the Acadamy did little in honing his survival skills. The most Nanashi could achieve was a broken pile of twigs and dry leaves. He scowled before throwing the diminutive pile of meat onto his even more diminutive attempt at a fire. Stupid Yamato. Stupid Kishimoto. Stupid fucking Shinigami. Who the hell expects a 6-year-old to be able to survive in a training ground in which trained shinobi twice his age struggle to survive?

With a final shout of frustration, he punched a nearby tree, unconsciously summoning chains of ethereal light which shred through the entirety of the trunk. Growling again as wooden shrapnel splintered his forearms, which he had hurriedly pulled up to protect his face, the boy jumped back, missing his footing and once again landing on his back. He looked up to see the Blond Bastard standing over him with a hand outstretched. The man had the gall to look apologetic.

"I'm really sorry. I'm too used to training ANBU, I guess," he said, awkwardly wagging his hand around.

The boy roughly grabbed the hand, allowing for the stupid trainer to pull him up.

"Fine. Just get me out of these woods. I need a fuckin' drink," Nanashi grumbled back, running his fingers on the various tears littering his clothing. With that said, his world once again blurred before he found himself back in a familiar training ground.

"No alcohol. My mother would kill me if kept letting you get inebriated under my watch."

"What do you think she'll do if I tell her you forced me to fight giant, chakra-enhanced tigers unsupervised?" Nanashi replied with a smirk.

Yamato immediately paled.

"H-how about we go back to my place and unwind over a nice cup of sake?" he stammered back.

"Oh? Taking a young and impressionable disciple back to your place for some grown-up juice? I didn't think you had it in ya, Blondie," Nanashi snorted. "I'll pass. I'm gonna go see if Kushina can help me get medical attention."

He donned his jacket, which was left on the same tree for the entirety of the disastrous attempt of a training session and stumbled back into the village proper.

This brat was going to be the death of him. He knew it the moment he was ordered to train him. Once again, Yamato found himself kneeled before his mother, with the unwanted addition of an angry Kushina, hair ominously flowing in the nonexistent wind.

"Let me get this straight. You brought young Nanashi here," the Hokage growled, gesturing to the child lying face down between him and the desk, "into a training ground reserved for shinobi Chunin rank and higher —"

"Without clearance," Kushina cut in.

"—behind your mother's back, and expected him to survive for how long?"

Yamato mumbled something under his breath.

"What was that?" Tsunade barked.

"One week. It's the standard for all of my previous trainees."

"Ah yes, all of your heavily vetted and trained ANBU candidates. Of course, a six-year-old could easily match their prowess."

"But Itachi—" Yamato blurted, trying to justify himself.

"Ah yes. Itachi Uchiha, the child who was brought into an active warzone by his parents to stimulate accelerated growth. From what I remember, he forcibly removed himself from the Shinobi forces and still chooses to schedule sessions with Inoichi. I'm so glad that you're trying to force the same fate onto my youngest relative."

Yamato paled, as sweat began to bead up under his happuri.

"But I—" he said, trying to find a different justification.

"Yes, you. My only child, who I had to force into an accelerated training program designed for times of heavy wartime due to repeated attempts on his life during his short stint as a genin. What dangers does Nanashi face within the village? Are you doubting the security measures that your godfather Orochimaru gave his life to set up?"

At this point, the brat chose to stop feigning sleep, rolling over.

"Wait, Orochimaru's dead? Dammit. I had like 20 snake puns ready for when he attacks us."

Yamato quickly ducked as a paperweight flew over his head and through the wall behind him.

"You didn't even bother to teach him of our family history? You were supposed to supplement anything he would miss in the academy. And here you are, besmirching the name of those who fell for our survival for what? Some kind of sick joke?"

"Nah, that part's not Yamato's fault," the brat slurred. Yamato silently thanked whatever deity decided to save his ass.

"I'm basing that from my talk with the Shinigami," he continued.

The temperature in the room dropped at that moment.

"You saw the Shinigami? How? When?" Tsunade stated, vaulting the table and pulling the boy up to eye level with her.

"Uhhh. I met him earlier?" he replied, somehow exuding both confidence and uncertainty in the same sentence.

Tsunade slowly placed him back to the ground before pacing over to the window, with her back to the other occupants of the room.

"Yamato, Kushina, you are both excused for the day. Nanashi will be under my care for the remainder of the day. There are texts that the two of us must go through."

Kushina hesitantly walked out of the office, her hair long-since drooped back to its natural state. With another look at Nanashi, who had since rolled back into a face-down position, Yamato exited as well, fear bubbling in his chest. Without another look, he shut the door behind him with a soft click.

This wasn't completely his fault, right?

Nanashi's back, fighting, and absolutely dreadful at it. Once again, mostly unedited because why not.