Yay! I'm back, guys. Sorry for the really, really long wait for this chapter (yeah, I know, a whole week). I really don't have any excuses; I was just busy/lazy. Way more of the latter. Meh, I really need to motivate myself...anyway, there's even less fighting this chapter than last, I think. But don't worry. The killing will be back next chapter.
Birth and Death is a grave event;
How transient is life!
Every minute is to be grasped.
Time waits for nobody.
-Inscription on a Zen Gong
Minato laughed. "He actually went through with it?"
"It would appear so, my master."
The Hand of Konoha leaned back in his chair; stretching with the lazy indolence of a mountain lion. Outside: sunlight, the wind. His nose picked up lilacs and rice.
He sneezed. Damnit. Where is the tofu?
His subordinate glared at him with a tinge of sullen defiance. Minato managed not to snort.
"Sarutobi's going to be in for a surprise. With his maturity entirely gone, he'll act impulsively, on snap judgments…this is good for us. Does he really think he's done himself a favor?"
"He probably has, master. Now, will that be all?"
"Mmhm…I command you to go get me some tofu. And maybe some ramen."
"…"
"You're no fun at all, Uchiha-kun. Learn to lighten up a little! Today is a good day." The blond shinobi toyed errantly with his paperwork, then cleared his throat.
"In any case, activate the reserve orders I placed for Contingency 33. Also, contact Hanzou's office about Sarutobi's little 'stunt' – perhaps he'll kill the whippersnapper for me."
"Yes, master."
"Is there anything else I should know about my dear friends in Rain Country?"
"Nothing new, master. Kakuzu has, however, expressed interest in your offer."
"Oh, really? Good work, Uchiha-kun, you're dismissed. You will find the scroll on the 374th level, Sector 6 postbox, marked 'Brazen.'"
"Yes, master."
Crimson clouds fluttered as his servant departed. Uchiha Itachi glanced back, once, with his six-tomoe eye, then strode down the hallway, a raven flurry.
---
This had been a long time coming.
Above, the glass cut and sharpened the sunlight, spraying shards of gold across the room. Blue and birdsong twinkled down, past the stone-white walls – were his footsteps too loud? His feet snapped assertive, quick, and commanding across the tiered marble, and as he inhaled he smiled.
What would they call him now? The 'Old man' was no longer old…As he grinned he rubbed the smoothness of his face, felt the thickness of his ebon-black hair. It was a great day to be alive.
Down and out of the flashing corridor, into the street, stepping lightly through the flow of men. He tightened his gloves and sped up, limbs smooth and responsive.
Damn.
Damn but he felt good. He knew he should have been guilty, at least a little bit, for performing that jutsu, but what choice did he have? The Demon was out of control, and Orochimaru could have killed the old him, could have stopped ANBU from fulfilling its purpose…well, no more of that! He was young and strong, twenty years if a day, and more than a match for old Hanzou now. Perhaps he should seize the throne from that geezer himself…no, it wasn't worth the trouble.
This time around, he intended to live and not just kill. Hadn't Jiraiya mentioned something about a whoring party on Saturday…? He would make sure to attend – needed to find a mate and all, test out the rejuvenated equipment. It would make a fine victory party for his triumph over the Demon.
For a moment, his shadow-black eyes darkened.
Kyuubi no Kitsune…this time, I will stop you.
He was distracted from his musings by a delicious purple-haired girl walking on the opposite side of the street. Sarutobi took a few moments to admire the view - capturing the image with his restored photographic memory - before chuckling at his equally restored perversion and making a left turn.
Ricksaws rattled past him, and he smelled sweat and sandalwood over the soft, cool sweetness of this highest level. Above, the sky yawned, blue, blue, and his eyes sparkled a moment with unshed tears. Kami, he was too happy to be alive. He picked up his pace, sending fresh waves of chakra to his feet, and noted with joy that his right femur had stopped aching.
What a day. Were they all like this, and age had simply made his blind? He didn't know – didn't really care, now. There were monsters to slay and drinks to down and tails to chase! And he honestly didn't have time for dry, sandpaper philosophy, the domain of wrinkled old widowers too frail to move. No, he would act, would seize life by the reins, and this time things were going to go his way.
Just for joy he released a burst of chakra to his hand, felt the spring blue surge coiling in his muscles, seductive with power. Now, in his prime, he had more than enough power to take on any of his former students: perhaps even enough to take out two! Though, Tsunade had always been fairly civil and Jiraiya was a good smuggler. Orochimaru was…somewhat necessary, since there wasn't anyone close to his power to replace him, but if the Snake ticked Sarutobi off…well, they would see which was the true master of justu technique.
Hm…
If he wanted to right now he could shatter a building with a punch, jump five hundred feet into the sky, and be gone from this wretched city in two heartbeats – but no, there were still things here for him. As the Censor he had control over ANBU, the most elite outfit this side of creation: one thousand hunter-nin each capable of taking out an Elite Jounin without breaking a sweat. And, after all, the girls did cluster around population centers…yes, he would spend a few years yet. He did have a whole lifetime to look forward to.
A jump: wind raking his hair, fluttering his cheeks, and though his broad smile he inhaled deeply. Oh, the sheer power he had! Had he really been this strong before? No, of course not. He was stronger now than he had ever been, seventy years battle experience and twelve thousand three hundred seventy-two jutsu in a twenty-year-old's body. Barely above a teen!
He landed, light-footed, and gave him arms a good long stretch. ANBU headquarters stood before him, fronted by a high-class teahouse. Oblivious nobles dined for the ambiance – black wood, Kabuki masks, shinkan hanging off the walls – and helped supplement ANBU wages with their outrageous tips. Operatives received training as waiters, chefs, and courtesans to the highest of the high.
Two powerful steps in, a nod at the gasping receptionist, and he strode with efficient vigor into the kitchens, silent as a leaf on the wind.
A smile at the chefs, quick stride across the linoleum, and a sharp right turn, down now into the bowels of the organization, chakra-silenced and visible only to the sharpest of eyes (finding ANBU headquarters was the last test of perception for trainees).
A mischievous grin and he kicked in the door, tearing the energy-laced steel off its hinges as he flowed downwards, relentless as a stream. For a moment, everything stopped.
People turned, jaws dropping, a few openly pointing at him. He took six more steps, halted, and turned, flaring his chakra.
"There is, I presume, a reason you're gaping at me?"
Jaws closed, hands fell, ANBU composure was restored. In a fraction of a second they had snapped to attention, returning to their duties and trying to pretend that nothing had happened. He laughed, a gruff, hearty sound, and wished for a smoke.
Now a few final steps and he was in his office, assistants awaiting him.
"Sir, it's good to see you back."
He cracked his neck and grabbed his pipe, fingers running down its smooth-worn surface. Sorry you're still old, friend.
"It's good to be back, in more ways than one."
He took a long, slow drag, sucking the chakra-laced drug into his lungs. Raising an impertinent eyebrow, he exhaled. Dragon-streamers of smoke twisted languidly in the hollow light.
"Now…what say we assemble a strike team and go hunting?"
"Sir, yes sir!"
---
"Naruto!" Sakura's voice rang loud across the rooms. He twitched involuntarily, jerked out of his reverie.
On the balcony, his arms were laid carelessly against the wooden railing, eyes to the west. Sundown was fire and molten tangerine, streaks of river red and mournful cloud painting the sky. For most of his life he'd only seen the last throes of light the sun threw as it died: in the Pit, concrete made half the heavens.
He had decided that this was the best B-rank mission he had ever been assigned to, though it was a little boring. There was no killing, no sneaking, no steal-
"NARUTO!"
He craned his head backwards. "Yeah?"
"Help us carry the groceries!"
Naruto got off the balcony and drifted inside, a paw on the sliding glass door. Inside was quiet, the traffic noises of bamboo wheels and fabric soles blocked away.
Kusanagi Mikoto stumbled into her apartment, tucking a stray blue strand of hair behind her ear as she balanced a bag of vegetables on one arm. He strode forward and took it, placing it on the counter. She righted herself, beaming.
"Thank you, Naruto-kun. Sakura-chan is going to get the rest of the bags. Do you mind helping her?"
He smiled. "Not at all, Kusanagi-san!"
A blur of yellow streaked into the hall, ruffling Mikoto's dress. She giggled slightly and began arranging the items she'd bought, preparing for dinner.
Naruto met Sakura halfway down the stairs. She was blotted out by a profusion of paper bags clutched to her front, and he scooped three off with one arm, grinning.
"This is a lot of stuff! What'd you buy?"
Sakura, left with two bags, shuffled them around before scowling at him. "Mikoto-san is way too nice for her own good. She finally decided to fulfill your request for ramen, so we bought thirty of those stupid cup ramen things – everything in the shop!"
"Whoa, really? That's awesome!" She glared at him a second before tromping up the stairs. He followed, a spring in his step.
"Neh, Sakura, when are Sasuke and Kakashi-sensei getting out?"
"Well, let's see…it's been a week since we got Yamanaka-san. Oh, right! Sasuke-kun will be out of the hospital tomorrow, though the nurses say Kakashi-sensei won't be out for another month."
"Pssh. Slow healers." Naruto nudged past Sakura, disrupting her reply, and burst into the apartment. "Okay! No need to make dinner, Kusanagi-san! We'll all have ramen!"
Mikoto chuckled as she chopped another cucumber in half. "But Naruto, doesn't that mean there will be less for you?"
He stopped mid-step. "Hm…you're right. But that doesn't matter. Ramen should be shared!"
Sakura put her bags down and sighed. "Naruto, that stuff can't be good for you. All that sodium, and pure complex carbs…I'm not sure how you even survive if that's all you eat."
"Now, now, Sakura, you know better than to insult Naruto-kun's ramen." Mikoto smiled.
"Anyway, since it's the first Friday you two have been with me, we should celebrate with a special dinner. That means you have to eat something besides fish and salad, Sakura."
"Yeah! Like…ramen!"
Sakura rolled her eyes. Why wasn't Mikoto on her side? They were both women, right?
As their civilian charge prepared dinner, Naruto lounged on the sofa like a listless lion while Sakura went into her room to study - her Medi-nin exam was in a few months. The warm aroma of soup and stir-fry laced the air as the sun went down. The apartment lights clicked on, soft chakra-lit yellow. Naruto stared at the chakra strip and wondered how many he had powered in his time.
His hostess' quarters were fairly average in this city; they were three hundred thirty-two feet up. Cheerful paintings adorned her lightly colored walls and good quality furniture was placed tastefully around the seven-room complex. Next to the balcony was the den, which housed a shougi board and other boring things, such as the koto and sangen against the wall. Sometimes, though, Mikoto-san would play the koto, and he would purr as he curled up and let the notes ripple through him, nudging him to sleep.
She had tatami mats, comfortable futons, and a nice steel-applianced kitchen directly connected to the door. Luckily for them, she also had two bathrooms (why did girls take so long during the morning?).
He rose, stomach clenching. His nose knew that she was done, all that was left was for her to-
"Naruto! Sakura! It's ready!"
They sat down to eat and prayed with Mikoto before digging in. Naruto had managed to control himself, reserving a mere ten bowls of ramen for this meal (after all, he had to leave some room for the soup and oysters) while Sakura ate with guilty politeness (why wasn't there a medical ninjutsu to just remove fat?).
The woman they protected was pale, with gentle brown eyes and soft blue hair that reached down to her waist. After hearing about Naruto's parents, she doted on him like a mother, and generally wore light pastels under her ever-present apron. Sakura thought she was fairly pretty, but harmless. What could she have done or known that would merit the protection of their team?
Tsunade had not been compromising when she'd given them the mission. Naruto had complained loudly, demanding something with more excitement, until the Sannin informed them that Mikoto's last guards had been messily slaughtered by an ANBU agent. Kusanagi was apparently extremely important to some project Tsunade and Orochimaru were working on, but Sarutobi didn't like it a bit.
At the mention of ANBU Naruto had gladly (and vocally) accepted the mission: he wasn't going to pass up a chance to go toe-to-toe with the most elite organization in Konoha. Sakura had been a bit uncomfortable, especially since half their team was still laid up, but glad she had some time to study for her doctorate exam. Still, she needed to come up with a thesis paper, and was wracking her brain dry for ideas…almost everything except the really gruesome stuff had been done, and she didn't know if she had the stomach for human vivisection or organ re-arrangement.
She watched in captivated horror as Naruto emptied half a salt shaker into his eight bowl of ramen before pronouncing it 'worthy.' That level of sodium really should kill him…
That's it! Her eyes widened. Why hadn't she thought of something so obvious before? She could do some sort of examination of Naruto's regeneration power. Genetic isolation, cellular observation – it would definitely be theoretically rigorous enough to pass the Board, and the practical applications were huge! If Naruto's level of regeneration could be duplicated, Konoha would never lose another man…and the Cauls would require much fewer people to power. She could earn enough prestige to even elevate her family to noble status without continuing as a kunoichi.
"Is there something on my face?" Naruto stared quizzically at her.
"Er, no, sorry!" Sakura looked flustered in the calm yellow light. "I was just thinking about my medical work."
"Ah, okay." The Demon shrugged and continued to inhale ramen. Mikoto cast her an amused glance and smiled.
Sakura held in a sigh. Oh, come on, Mikoto-san, it's not like that!
She got up to wash her dish. I'll have to ask Naruto for a flesh sample later. I don't think any hair would work…the cellular structure is too different, and I don't think it regenerates – though, apparently he can grow it at will. Jeez, if I had that power…anyway, a piece of his arm would probably be best.
Naruto laughed at something their charge had said, and she rolled her eyes. Hope they weren't talking about me- what was that?
Glass erupted inwards, shattering, a cone of slashing fragments. Naruto roared as he overturned the table, deflecting the shards, and grabbed Mikoto, leg muscles pumping as he leapt back ten feet, claws scrabbling against the kitchen tiles as they landed. White lightning ripped through the room, and thunder tore through the fragile walls. Sakura squeezed her eyes hurridly shut, hands on her ears, and still afterimages danced in front of her vision. A thin blue mist began to spread from below...
Flash-bang and poison gas? These guys are professional! No doubt it's ANBU.
The civilian sagged, a hand to her mouth. Naruto's large paw had covered her ears and eyes, but the Demon himself had blood leaking from his ears.
"Oh no, not again…You two, I'm so sorry."
"Don't worry about it, Miko-"
Naruto stood, fangs bodkin bright. "Not as sorry as they're going to be." A low, loud growl rumbled through the room as he exploded towards their foes. Ceramics shattered in his footsteps and his fingers grew cruel, glinting claws. With a maddened twitching of lips he cut through the table, palm shattering the floor as his other hand thrust forward, sparrow-fast at his opponent's gut. His adversary, however, was gone, twirling through a backflip, and another figure burst from the side, blade drawn and aimed for Naruto's neck.
Sakura hurriedly untied her bandages, biting her lip until it bled – she had seen the dark blue skinsuits, the pale, eyeless masks…
The cold wind of night rushed into the apartment, and she gripped her wrappings hard as the chill hit her like a hammer. Naruto had gotten his wish.
ANBU:
The average ANBU member is slightly stronger than Kakashi or Maito Gai. Captains are just barely below the Sannin. Sarutobi commands 12 captains. The masks they wear make them immune to sense-affecting attacks and inhaled poisons. They carry 60,000 shitan chokken and mandate an S-ranked jutsu or grand mastery of at least two taijutsu styles before entry is granted. Only a thousand members exist among the 750 million people of Fire Country.
Young Sarutobi: One of the deadliest men alive, if his judgment weren't so poor. The jutsu he used makes him extremely arrogant and immature - he wasn't aware of this. Though physically he's a match for Hanzo, his arrogance would lead to defeat.
Please Review! I, erm, promise I'll update faster if you do.
Omakes: I think I'll write one every two or three chapters now. Mix things up a little.