I'm tentatively giving Naruto another shot. I used to write in this fandom years ago but backed out a while ago for a number of reasons.

This will be a re-imaging of what Naruto would have been like if he had been born a girl. If you've been on my tumblr you might have seen me mention writing a femNaruto story a little while ago. Well this is it. The pairing is still undecided - but I'm saying it now that it will not be Sasuke/Naruto. I have nothing against the pairing itself - in fact I adore it - but I want their relationship to be strictly platonic for this story.

Also, be aware that I'll be playing fast and loose with the canon lore of Naruto. I'll be altering a lot of stuff in this story, so it won't be what some might call 'faithful'. But hey, that's what fanfiction is for so ¯\_(ツ)_/

Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this!

She was a small thing, all flailing limbs and warbling cries, and Sarutobi had never felt older than in the moment when he first saw her; Minato and Kushina slumped in the dirt beside her shaking form.

He approached with heavy steps, the scene from mere moments ago still playing before his eyes. The chaos that had torn through his home still echoed in his head.

He plucked the child from her place, his heart aching at how light she was, even as his eyes caught sight of the seal that was delicately, intricately marking her stomach. It was a work of beauty, even he could tell that, and Sarutobi could only close his eyes, tuck her into his chest to shield her from the cold night, and try and suffer through the terrible pride and bitter sorrow that grew inside him.

Minato was gone—he had known that from the moment the fox had vanished. But Kushina was not. Not yet.

Her young face was etched in pain, and something precious in her eyes was broken as she looked at him.

Sarutobi wanted to beg her, to demand that she live for her daughter and not leave the child alone in this cruel world. But he knew it would do nothing.

So instead, he knelt before her, bowed his head at her whispered plea, and felt hot tears burn his eyes at the name that fell from her bloodied lips.

OoO

Naruto Uzumaki was orphaned hours after her birth, amidst the flaming ruins of a village, with the blood of her parents painting her skin and a monster raging inside her.

OoO

"What are you going to do?"

Sarutobi leaned back in his chair, watching the boy across from him with unconcealed sympathy.

Kakashi wasn't even looking at him. His entire being was fixated on the baby in his arms; and had been since he had laid eyes on her.

He was the first to hold her after Sarutobi—the only one he trusted with the girl right now, beyond himself. And the sight they made was overwhelming in its tragedy.

They had both lost much tonight, and Sarutobi wasn't sure who he pitied more.

The boy whose mentor was now gone, the last of his clobbered-together family finally ripped from him. Or the little girl who would never know her parents, who would never experience their unbridled love for her.

"She has to be protected." Sarutobi said, voice low so as to avoid awakening the child. She was resting peacefully, but she had been difficult to settle; almost as if she already knew exactly what had been taken from her this night. "Not only as a jinchuuriki, but as Minato's daughter. She is—too valuable. We have to keep her safe from those who would seek to harm her."

It was subtle, but he knew the boy understood what he was implying from the way his fingers dug just a little deeper in the faded orange blanket wrapped around the baby. Naruto had to be protected from all threats, both external and, most importantly, internal.

Kakashi's head remained turned down towards the child, and as Sarutobi watched, the boy gently swayed his hand back and forth, his forefinger caught in the grasp of the girl's tiny fist.

"What's her name?" Kakashi asked softly, his focus pinned to those small fingers curled around his own.

"Naruto. Naruto Uzumaki. Kushina named her before she passed."

The grief on the boy's face was as sharp as a blade's edge. "Uzumaki. Not Namikaze." He muttered to himself. "That might not be enough. Everyone—everyone knows who he married. It won't take a genius to put it together, especially with her hair. Blonde isn't exactly common here, not this shade."

Sarutobi sighed, and the hole in his chest seemed to widen. "I know, but there is little I can do. I won't—" he paused, searching for the words, "I will not take them from her. Not completely. She deserves something, some piece of them, no matter how small."

Kakashi nodded, though the movement was sluggish, weighed down. "What about Minato's family? If they find out about this, they might try to claim her."

Sarutobi frowned at that, knowing there was some truth to the boy's concerns. "Minato relinquished all ties to them when he became a shinobi of our village. It was his wish—his and Kushina's—that Naruto be raised here, as a citizen of Konoha. I intend to honour that." He twisted his head to look out the window of the office. His office, once again.

There was a brief lull, then, "They might not see it that way. Our treaty with them is a farce, we all know it. If they find out and try to push the issue—"

"They will not." Sarutobi cut him off, tone harsher than he had meant it to be. "Kumo will have no say over Naruto's life. She is of Konoha, and it is here she shall remain. Her connection to Minato does not outweigh her status as the Kyuubi's jinchuuriki. Kumo will be risking war if they attempt anything, which they can hardly afford at this time."

Kakashi was silent. Sarutobi turned back to him expectantly. "You disagree."

The boy finally gave him his attention, mismatched eyes blazing. "I think Naruto is a vulnerable baby that holds the strongest bijuu in existence, and that alone would make her a prized target for anyone looking to destabilise us. I think Kumo has the right mixture of greed and motive to go for her, and will, if they hear even a hint of her parentage." Kakashi looked back down at Naruto.

"They haven't forgotten that Minato was theirs first. They're still bitter about his 'betrayal'. They would jump at the chance to have his only child, Kyuubi or not."

"Then what would you suggest?" There was no scorn in Sarutobi's voice, merely weariness.

Kakashi blinked slowly, shifting so that Naruto was held more securely. "I think she should be prepared for the life she's going to endure."

"You would have me make her into a weapon? Have me take her childhood and innocence from her?" His anger stirred at the suggestion.

Kakashi's shoulders tensed. "No." He snapped, bordering on mutinous before he managed to reign in his own temper. "No. But we can't ignore the fact that she's going to need to know how to defend herself. She's—she needs to be safe."

"And she will be." Sarutobi declared with ringing finality. "But I will not abide by turning her into a weapon. I would see her have a normal childhood, to let her grow, before putting her on that path."

Kakashi held himself stiffly, before jerking his head in a nod. "Of course, Lord Hokage."

The title had Sarutobi's eyes sliding shut, hurt from the attack it was meant to be. He had never expected to have it directed at him again, and it felt wrong to hear it and know it was only because his successor had sacrificed everything to save them all.

It was wrong. Because Minato had been only twenty-four, and he should have had years left. Years to lead Konoha into a new era, years to enjoy the peace he had fought and bled to bring about—years to spend with his wife and watch their daughter grow into a young woman.

But life wasn't fair. And it certainly wasn't kind.

He forced his eyes open.

"Will you take her?" He asked.

Kakashi froze at the question. The sudden jolt disturbed the child in his arms, and she squirmed, face scrunching in discomfort. The boy shushed her instantly, rocking back and forth until she once again quietened.

Sarutobi studied them, wondering just what Minato would think, seeing his student holding his daughter like she was the most important thing in his life.

"No." Kakashi said, not once looking away from her sweet, slumbering features. "I can't."

"May I ask why?" Sarutobi inquired after a moment, hiding his surprise as best he could. "I am sure there is no one else Kushina and Minato would—"

But Kakashi was shaking his head. "I can't. I'm not…suitable. My duties to the village, they wouldn't allow me the time, and, and it would be suspicious, wouldn't it? The Fourth Hokage's student raising a child that looks like him and bears the surname of his wife? They would know within a week. It wouldn't be a good idea."

Sarutobi tilted his head, seeing the excuses for what they were, hearing the almost desperate note to them. "Kakashi."

The boy's head lowered, his face covered by his hair. His words grew faster, messy, and contradicted the way he held the child so close, curling his body around hers. "I wouldn't be good for her, Lord Hokage. I don't know anything about children. I'd simply end up hurting her. I'd look at her and—I wouldn't be able to not see them. She doesn't deserve that. It'd be best for everyone if she never knew me."

He could see the boy grappling with himself, his pain and longing so evident on his face and in his voice. It was more emotion than Sarutobi was used to seeing from him, but given the circumstances, he couldn't blame the boy.

He sighed, disappointed but understanding the choice. Kakashi was still so young, after all, and it was perhaps callous of him to ask such a thing when the loss was so fresh.

When their bodies were still warm, and their skin still flushed with colour.

"Very well." He stepped around the desk and approached carefully. He stopped just before them and held out his arms patiently. "You are dismissed, Kakashi. Give Naruto to me."

Kakashi did not move for a long moment. He stared at the child almost hungrily, and with his headband pushed upwards, Sarutobi noted how his sharingan shone as it ran over his sensei's newborn daughter.

When he did hand her over, his movements were mechanical and stiff, but the fingers he brushed over Naruto's soft hair were as tender as a whispered goodbye.

"I'm sorry." He said. Then, without another word, he flickered away.

Sarutobi gazed down at the child in his arms and sighed again.

OoO

The funerals were held a week later.

Sarutobi's voice was steady as he gave his speech. Behind the podium his hands shook, and his knees trembled, weak under the weight of his own grief.

He stood before the crowd, watching as his village lamented the losses—remembering the lives cut too short and the damage dealt to their home.

A black cloud hung above the proceedings, and even the heavens cried with them.

He refused to look at the photos of their fallen. Refused to see his wife's face staring out blankly at him. Refused to see two in particular—to have their eyes pierce him and demand he keep his unspoken promises.

He would protect Naruto. He would keep her safe and alive.

But first he would mourn for his people, mourn for himself and his son.

For Biwako.

OoO

In the aftermath of the attack—slaughter, he should say; anything else implied that they had had a chance—it was difficult to keep track of everything.

Having the leadership of the broken and fragile village thrust back onto him, struggling with the gaping hole his wife had left behind and the shattered glint in Asuma's eyes, beating back the council, and wading through the carnage—all of it left him stretched to breaking point.

He had entrusted Naruto to one of Minato's anbu guards, leaving the child's primary care in the woman's capable hands. He knew she was aware whose child it was, if the reverent way she had held Naruto meant anything.

She would keep Naruto in good health, if only out of respect for her former Hokage. Perhaps with time, Sarutobi could even convince her to be the girl's caregiver, at least until Naruto was of an appropriate age to live alone.

Kakashi wasn't the only option after all. Was not the only person who could raise Minato's child.

The problem was, he realised as the weeks dragged on, that there were far too many options available. Nearly every clan had put forth a request to house Naruto; and while Sarutobi knew the majority were heartfelt in their desire to protect the girl—old friends and subordinates and mentors of her parents—there were some who saw her only for the power she would one day wield.

He wanted to give Naruto a family. He wanted her to grow up loved and loving in return. He wanted her to be surrounded by people who saw her for who she was, not what she contained. He wanted to honour his pledge to her parents.

But the longer the debates drew out, the louder the voices grew and the more aggressive the demands became, he knew that he could not.

He couldn't trust any one of them with the girl, not when there was even the slightest chance that she would be used to further someone's interests.

Naruto was an important piece in the game of the world, and even though it galled and disgusted him to think such things, he had to remember that fact. Jinchuuriki were as much political tools as they were people. Granting one clan precedence over the others would, at best, sow bitterness between his people, and at worse, incite civil war.

There was a reason so few people had protested to Kushina's marriage to Minato, and it mainly stemmed from the fact that the boy was a clanless bastard, born from an unwedded union, that held no ties to his former home. Minato had had no clan-driven loyalties. No temptation to use his wife's status to promote his family's standing.

He had, objectively, been perfect in the council's eyes. And his own position as Sarutobi's successor had merely been a bonus. What better way to keep a jinchuuriki loyal, then to marry her to the Hokage himself?

It was a sickening way to view their relationship, especially considering Sarutobi had witnessed their love for each other firsthand—had seen the way they had gravitated to each other from the beginning, the way they had blossomed together, burning ever-bright in the other's presence.

But it was not something he could ignore.

Naruto, much like her mother before her, was a weapon to the council and the clan heads. To disregard that would be dangerous, and foolish. He had to think like them to keep her free from the mechanisms of the village.

So, to ensure Naruto's safety, he had no choice but to dismiss all offers.

Some took it better than others.

OoO

Mikoto Uchiha sat before him, her hands curled into the fabric of her dress, the only physical sign of her distress. Beside her, her eldest son was seated silently, his intelligent eyes watching keenly.

"She is Kushina's." The woman said calmly, staring him in the eyes and daring him to reject her again to her face. "She is the daughter of my closest, dearest friend. You expect me to stand aside while she grows up alone? You expect me to let Kushina's girl grow up never knowing her mother's name? Her family? Her history?"

"It is too dangerous, Mikoto. You know this. Both of Naruto's parents had enemies, and their enemies will become hers if her connection to them was publicly known. I am trying to protect her."

"As am I." Mikoto said, the first bite of anger entering her voice. "I am her godmother. I have more claim to her than anyone." Her shrewd, dark eyes scanned him. "Lord Jiraiya has not returned, has he? He has refused. Abandoned her."

"Jiraiya is preoccupied with his duties." Sarutobi replied, feeling the need to defend his student, even if he internally agreed. Minato would have been disappointed that his old sensei—his father in all the ways that mattered—had left his child alone when she needed him most.

But they were all grieving in their own ways, and Sarutobi could not bring himself to force Jiraiya to return, no more then he could have made Kakashi take Naruto.

Besides, Jiraiya's lifestyle was hardly suited for such a small child. Or any child for that matter.

"He is not here," Mikoto reiterated with satisfaction that was as sharp as her smile, "her godfather is not here to care for her. I am. You have no right to stop me."

"I have every right." Sarutobi said, his own voice deepening in warning. "Her parents entrusted her safety to me. I will deem what is best for Naruto."

"It has been months. I have not even seen her with my own eyes, yet." Mikoto told him. "You say that they entrusted her safety to you? Well, they entrusted her happiness to me. Who better to raise her? Her mother and I were close friends. I likely have a better understanding of the Kyuubi and its effects on its host than anyone alive. My clan is wealthy, so she would want for nothing with us. We would love and cherish her, protect her and make sure she is happy."

Sarutobi sighed, longing to close his eyes but knowing that showing any weakness to this woman was the equivalent of handing an enemy a kunai and showing them his back. "Mikoto, you know I cannot accept."

Her rage finally reached her eyes. Her chin rose a fraction. "Is it because she is a jinchuuriki, or because I am an Uchiha?" She asked, bold and fearless as ever.

"Neither." He denied, though they both saw it for the lie it was.

Desperation bled into her features even as the steely glint in her eyes never wavered. "What about a marriage contract?" She asked, throwing the words down like a challenge. Sarutobi blinked in surprise.

"If there was a marriage contact, created between Kushina and myself, would that allow me to care for her?"

He leaned forward, steepling his fingers and frowning thoughtfully. "Between Naruto and young Sasuke?"

Mikoto started to shake her head, her gaze darting to Itachi. His face was tilted up towards her in interest, and Sarutobi had no doubt that the boy understood everything they were saying. "Sasuke, or Itachi. We had always wanted to join our families one day. If Kushina had a girl, we agreed that it would be a good match."

Sarutobi narrowed his eyes sharply. "Naruto is an outsider. The Uchiha are not in the habit of marrying outside the clan. Especially not their heir." His own gaze moved to Itachi, who met his eyes easily and with a solemnity he had expected but still found disheartening. Five, and already far too aware of the horrors of the world.

"There are no rules against marrying outside the clan." Mikoto countered rather fiercely. "Naruto is the daughter of a Hokage, and a descendant of the Uzumaki clan, one of the last of the main branch. Status is not an issue." She reached over and grasped her son's hand tightly.

Sarutobi knew she spoke the truth. The Uzumaki clan was as old as the Uchiha, and with Minato as her father, Naruto would have made a sought-after match for any of the clans.

Mikoto continued, likely sensing his weakening resolve. "Kushina and I decided, and our husbands agreed."

Sarutobi rubbed at his eyes, showing a brief glimpse of his exhaustion. He could see why the match would have been discussed. The joining of an Uzumaki descendant—even if it was a demolished and scattered clan—with one of the Uchiha heirs would have been a powerful move. It would have done wonders in improving the relation between the village and the Uchiha clan; and was surprisingly cunning of Kushina and Minato.

He stared at the woman; one hand braced against his mouth. "Be that as it may, without seeing the contract there is no way I can confirm your words. You do have the contract, yes?"

For the first time, Mikoto faltered. Sarutobi watched her, hating himself just a little for hurting her so. He had no doubt that Mikoto and Kushina had discussed a marriage contract. The two had always been close, ever since their genin days; and Minato and Fugaku, despite everything, were remarkably cordial with each other.

And he could almost see it. Could see Naruto joining the Uchiha clan. Could see her married to one of Mikoto's sons, growing and thriving amongst people that loved as violently as they hated.

But without concrete, legally binding documents backing her, there was no way Mikoto could lay claim to Naruto. Not in any manner that the council would accept.

And especially not after the rumours the Kyuubi attack had stirred up. It had only been a handful of months since that night, yet already links were being drawn between the fox and the Uchiha clan. If word got out that they intended to take the new jinchuuriki as one of their own, without the contract as leverage, Sarutobi knew that the simmering suspicions would explode into outright hostility.

"Mikoto?" He prompted gently.

Her shoulders slumped. "We never…not through official channels. We thought—" her eyes watered in a stunning display of sorrow, "we thought we would have plenty of time."

Sarutobi looked away, giving her much needed seconds to regain her composure. "You know I cannot grant your request, Mikoto. Perhaps in the future, when Naruto is older, of marrying age."

She shook her head, "It won't matter." She whispered brokenly. "It won't matter, because by then she will have grown up with no one."

Sarutobi paused, hand moving to fully cover his lower face and hide the downwards tilt of his mouth. "Right now, things are too unstable to allow anyone to have Naruto."

Her eyes narrowed in offence at his insinuation, but she kept her silence.

"I will not sign her away on a vague promise made between friends. I am sorry."

Rage and dark acceptance warred over her face, before her chin dipped in defeat. "May I at least hold her? Just once?"

Not even he was cruel enough to deny her that.

OoO

Hisa allowed them entry with a respectful bow, her brown hair pinned back and her dark eyes watching them closely.

She led them further into the modestly decorated apartment and directed them to stay in an open room with a few comfortable seats while she went to collect Naruto.

Sarutobi stood to the side, letting Mikoto and Itachi settle themselves on the chairs. He had visited a number of times himself in the past months, enjoying the rare moments of tranquillity that the baby provided him with, and tried not to fee guilty each time he left.

He knew Kakashi came regularly as well, both from Hisa's briefings, and his own observations.

A new toy in the crib, a handful of new books on the shelves, a new blanket. All of it spoke of the boy's hovering presence.

Sarutobi never brought it up when he saw Kakashi, in between his missions and whenever he managed to drag himself in for reports; and the boy never mentioned his routine trips, so Sarutobi was content to let him be. Far be it for him to deny Kakashi whatever he got from his late-night visits.

Hisa entered the room again a minute later, her hands securely holding a small form wrapped tightly in a blanket.

Mikoto cried, one of her hands rising to cup her mouth as Hisa brought Naruto closer, bending to allow the Uchiha matriarch her first glimpse of her goddaughter.

Sarutobi turned his head away, idly reading the titles of the books on the wall as Naruto was placed in Mikoto's arms. Hisa came to his side after transferring the baby over, her eyes alert as she periodically glanced back to her ward. "Lord Hokage." She greeted with a polite incline of her head.

"Hisa. How is she faring?"

The front of ice masking her expressions thawed slightly, and something akin to pride gleamed in her eyes. "The young Lady has begun teething, and her speech is taking form—she is quite vocal most nights. As well as that, her spatial awareness is remarkably well-developed for her age." Hisa tilted her head enough to see the others.

"Hello, Naruto." He heard Mikoto breath. When he looked over, she was stroking the girl's cheek tenderly with one finger, staring down at her with adoration and an acute sense of pain. She looked shattered, as if her heart had been dashed across the ground like glass.

After a few minutes of simply holding the girl close, Mikoto called for her son.

Itachi moved closer on the lounge, sitting patiently, eyes studying the baby curiously. "Mother?" The boy asked quietly.

"This is Naruto." Mikoto whispered, brushing the soft blonde hair and pressing a kiss to the girl's brow. "Kushina was her mother. You remember Kushina?"

Itachi nodded once, gaze flickering between his mother and Naruto. "She's alone now." He said with a clarity that was jarring in such a young child. Next to him, Hisa's face tightened.

Mikoto's next breath sounded like it was torn form her. "Yes, my darling. She is." Mikoto looked to her son, smiling despite the tears in her eyes. "Would you like to hold her, Itachi?"

Hisa moved to step forward, a protest on the tip of her tongue, before Sarutobi stopped her. Together, they watched as Mikoto carefully shuffled to her son, moving with the ease of a mother as she deposited the child in Itachi's arms. He held her steadily, hands bracing her correctly.

They all watched as the boy stared down at Naruto. Sarutobi drifted closer, finding the expression on the boy's face intriguing.

Eventually, Itachi looked up at his mother. "She is smaller than Sasuke." He informed her softly.

"She is." Mikoto murmured, her hand still running over the child's scalp. "But she is beautiful, isn't she?" The words were more to herself, but Itachi nodded either way. "Has she started rolling yet?" Mikoto asked without taking her eyes off her son and goddaughter.

Hisa straightened at the question. "She has, Lady Uchiha. I make sure she has adequate time to develop her muscles each day."

Mikoto nodded with a sad little quirk to her lips. "Good. That's good. What do you think, Itachi?" She asked.

"She's…bright." The boy answered after a pause, mulling over his words thoughtfully. Mikoto laughed softly.

"She definitely has her father's hair." She commented with a rueful smile.

Naruto stirred, likely woken by their voices. Mikoto gasped when the girl's eyes peeled open, looking about with interest. "Oh," she said, "she has his eyes, too."

Sarutobi nodded in agreement, even though he prayed on many occasions that the shining blue of Naruto's eyes would darken to her mother's grey, or that her hair would lose some of its vibrancy as she aged. It would lessen the resemblance, at least marginally.

"She's bright." Itachi said again, and Sarutobi raised an eyebrow at the boy, finding it a curious repetition.

"Yes, she is." He echoed, and when Itachi looked up at him, Sarutobi felt like he had misunderstood what the boy had meant.

OoO

The council was as intolerable as he remembered, and their demands and politics exhausted him more each passing day. It seemed that everywhere he turned, there was a new problem just waiting to make itself known.

It had been days since he had seen the inside of his house, and Sarutobi could sense the gorge that was slowly tearing itself between himself and Asuma. It felt like he was being pulled in every direction at once, forced to choose between the village and his son, and he couldn't help but think that every decision he made only worsened everything.

The village was crumbling around him, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.

Whispers had begun to spread through the village, rumours of corruption and treachery circulating in the minds of his people. Sarutobi listened with growing dread, watched as the wheels began to turn, the sparks threatening to ignite—unable to stop the escalating situation.

The bad blood between the clans bubbled forth, and every meeting became a battle as fingers were pointed and accusations thrown like stones.

Sarutobi knew what this would lead to, and they had already suffered too much in the past year for him to risk it.

He reached out to Fugaku and ordered the Uchiha to move to an outer section of the village, hoping that the separation would quell some of the tension.

The Uchiha protested, loudly, viciously, their red eyes burning, their lips twisted with resentment—but they went.

Sarutobi oversaw the relocation personally and hated the approving nods he received from his advisors, hated the satisfaction he could glimpse in their cold, predatory eyes.

They saw it as pre-emptive caution, of putting a stop to a threat that hadn't even appeared yet. Sarutobi saw it as a means of keeping his people from tearing themselves apart. He turned a blind eye to the objections from the Uchiha, focussed instead on the reconstruction of his village and fortifying their defences.

It was, however, incredibly hard to weather a storm when it was already inside the walls.

But he had been raised to never let himself seem weak, even when he was bleeding from the throat. Sarutobi knew things would get better. They just had to persevere.

Because there were more pressing issues than which clan held the most influence.

There was something brewing in the cracks of his village, and Sarutobi could do little more than watch as it grew in strength, clawing its way into the roots of his home and seeping into the very soil of Konoha. He watched, and waited, until it finally made itself known to him in the form of an old friend.

OoO

Danzo entered his office one sunny day with a promise like poison on his lips, an offer of aid disguising the blade pressing into the soft flesh of his stomach.

Sarutobi knew a trap when he saw one—knew how this little game between them worked, the rules and pieces playing atop the board between them—and he knew what Danzo wanted. Because he had always understood the necessity for the shadows of their world, even if he had never liked them.

So, he smiled, agreed, watched as Danzo bowed low and mocking, and prepared himself for the next move.

But.

The thing about men like Danzo, was that they were effective.

Sarutobi sat in the spotlight and pretended not to see the shadows that crept along his walls.

Pretended that each voice that was quietened was merely the result of tireless negotiations and concessions.

Pretended that every complaint seemingly fixed itself overnight.

Pretended that the way his largest contesters were suddenly incapable of meeting his eyes, was because they finally realised that he was the best one suited to leading Konoha right now.

Pretended. Pretended. Pretended.

OoO

The village settled into something like peace in the following year as they painstakingly picked themselves up from the ashes of the Kyuubi's attack.

Buildings were restored. Stores reconstructed. The academy reopened. The missions began to trickle back to them slowly as their reputation was rebuilt brick by brick; customers and clients returning from the other nations they had flocked to.

The weaknesses were still apparent, if one knew where to look, but with the combined efforts of the clans and the strings Danzo so masterfully pulled in the background, Sarutobi knew it was only a matter of time before they broke out into the world, reborn and reforged from their recent crucible.

They couldn't afford to continue limping on, lest they draw the vipers to them.

But as the days turned to weeks, and weeks to months, Sarutobi began to feel more secure as no new threat surfaced.

Naturally, that was when everything fell apart in his hands.

OoO

Hisa's body lay crumpled against the far wall, her throat slashed open, blood coating the floor in front of her.

Scattered through the rooms were five other bodies, each wearing similar, unmarked uniforms.

Sarutobi stood in the centre of the chaos, hands behind his back to hide his clenched fists from the prying eyes of the investigators.

His gaze was firmly planted on the blood-splattered orange blanket that was discarded carelessly on the floor of the living room.

It was late, closer to dawn then not, but the blood was still fresh, the corpses not yet rigid. It couldn't have been more than an hour since the assailants had slipped away with their target.

But an hour was more than enough of a window. An hour was a lifetime to any shinobi smart enough to exploit it.

A figure melted into existence at his side, silent and radiating deadly intent. The other shinobi scurrying around the apartment shot uneasy glances in their direction, but none were foolish enough to approach.

Sarutobi turned his head, gazing down at the porcelain mask aimed up at him. The anbu said nothing, though Sarutobi had no doubt that there was anger and blame swirling in those eyes. "Can you track her?" He asked.

The anbu nodded once. "My ninken are hunting them now. They're outside Konoha."

Sarutobi hummed, taking in the room—that blanket—one more time. "Do we know who they are?"

"No." The anbu muttered, voice heavy with dark promises. "But we will."

Sarutobi nodded, "Find them. Bring her home."

The clone dispersed.

OoO

As the grey light of the morning began to creep over the village, Sarutobi stared up at the picture of Minato that loomed over him and silently begged for a miracle.

Two hours later, Kakashi Hatake appeared in his office, uniform soaked, white mask splashed with red, hair matted, and a squirming bundle strapped to his chest with the tattered remains of a shirt.

He told Sarutobi in short, clipped sentences who the culprits were—nukenin with no known affiliations with the other main villages—and what they had revealed to him before he despatched them.

Sarutobi did not know from who the information slipped, but it was not something he could ever allow to happen again.

He had made a promise and had very nearly broken it tonight.

It was unacceptable. Naruto was too valuable, too important, too vulnerable.

The very next day, Sarutobi made his decree to the village.

No mention of Naruto's status was to leave their lips.

You can pry godmother-Mikoto from my cold dead hands. That woman would have fought to have Naruto under her care and you can't convince me otherwise. As well as that, I read a few interesting stories on AO3 that sparked the idea of Minato originating from Kumo and moving to Konoha before the war broke out. I really liked that idea, since I think it adds another layer to the feud between Minato and the Raikage/Kumo. I know it's not canon, but it's a nice little thing to play with.

Let me know your thoughts for this and as always, my tumblr is open. Thanks!