Will of Fire

He had gotten used to the small, careful hands that cared for his injuries and helped him eat and drink. This was the worst case of chakra exhaustion he had ever experienced and he never remembered feeling this weak, this vulnerable. But whenever he tried to move, to get up and gather information about where he was, those gentle hands pushed him back down and a soft voice murmured tender admonishments and reassurances.

And then, again, he would give in - for once too weak and too tired to fight - and his world would remain this warm cocoon.

Slowly consciousness started to fight against sleep and he managed to catch a few glimpses of his caretaker; warm pools of a soft blue sea and long dark hair.

The world was still out of focus, but as light started to win from the sheltering darkness, he recognized that he was in a small windowless hut, he realised that the warm liquid she fed him was a light soup and that the words she spoke had a strange accent.

And, exhausted, he fell back into sleep.

"Kagome, Kagome!"

She smiled at the pair of excited children; "Good morning Aya, Yuki."

They giggled and took hold of her hands. "Look!" She allowed them to tug her to a tiny house, a dolls-house, made of twigs, dirt and leaves.

She listened attentively as they chattered about the little creatures that would live there and how they had made it all by themselves.

"Do you like it?" the eager smiles on both their faces were like small twin suns.

"It's wonderful." she told them, honestly.

After a while she reluctantly pulled herself away from the children, who had been the only people in this village who had welcomed her when she came her, lost and alone. She explained that she had to go and granted them one last soft smile before continuing on her way.

She had a little money, most of it gained from making herbal remedies (that worked quite well, thanks to Kaede's occasional lessons and her own experiences in the Feudal Era) and some of it she had earned with an odd job here and there.

She visited the few small shops this village had, careful not to spend her money on things she didn't really need. Rice, this season's vegetables, a small piece of meat. She could hear the locals talking about her, could feel their eyes on her as she walked past: some glanced at her with curiosity, but most of them muttered with disapproval. As a Miko who had travelled with youkai, she was used to this. She ignored them all.

When she got back to her little hut - built on the very outskirts of the village - she stood outside for a moment, taking a deep cleansing breath and gazing back at the village that had been her home for the last month or so.

And then she sees them; a group of villagers approaching her hut, and she recognizes the fear, covered by anger in their gazes. When it was just her, a strange, but harmless outsider their faces had held but a slight dislike, a hint of caution. But now, with that odd man in her care… she had seen this storm brewing and knew that it was about to break.

A soft sigh escaped her lips and she fought to urge to pretend this wasn't happening and retreat back into her hut. For all her involvement in fights alongside Inuyasha and her other friends in the Feudal era, she had never been one to seek out confrontations. She didn't like fights or arguments. She didn't like to see people, or even youkai, hurting each other.

But she also wasn't the type of person who let others push her too far, as Inuyasha and that bead around his neck could confirm. So she put down her groceries, straightened her back and waited.

The sound of raised voices woke him immediately. He could hear the anger in them, mixed with fear and what could be hate and his body tensed as he readied himself for possible danger.

He took quick stock of his body; his wounds were healed, but his chakra was practically non-existent and his body paid the price for that as well. Physically, he knew that right now he was even weaker than most civilians. But he had his own advantages. Even weaker than them, he could, would still win if it came to a fight: it didn't take much strength to throw a kunai, just skill and focus. And when it came down to it, he had both, no matter what state he was in.

Now if only his kunai weren't missing.

Quickly, he scanned the small hut, searching for a weapon. They landed on a pouch, half hidden under an orange blanket, in the opposite corner of the room.

It was familiar. It was his.

Every step that he took seemed to drain him completely, but he kept moving, ignoring the tiredness and pain flooding his body. Carefully he bent down and grasped his kunai pouch.

A burst of gratitude filled him when he realised that it was filled. He took one of them out and despite his utter weakness, the familiar cold steal of his own weapon strenghtened his confidence. He was a shinobi. He didn't need chakra, jutsu, or even physical strength to fight.

Not when he had his own kunai in his hands.

Now, less worried about possible enemies, he tried to assess the situation. He focussed on the voices outside. They were civilians, he realised immediately as some of the words filtered through to his mind. And they weren't pleased with the presence of a shinobi in their village.

He relaxed his grip on the kunai slightly. It was obvious that these people feared him and shinobi like him. That meant that despite their desire to be rid of him, they probably wouldn't actually dare to try and harm him. Leave him to his fate, perhaps, but no more than that.

He sat back down on the improvised futon he had slept on, tired by the exertion. But, though he allowed his body to slump, the kunai remained in his hand. Vulnerable as he was, he couldn't afford to trust in just the villagers' fear of retribution to keep him safe.

And then he heard it: a familiar female voice that calmly answered the cascade of angry ones. He remembered that voice, had heard it often over the last days, weeks, however long it had been… that soft voice, along with a pair of gentle hands, had been his only companions.

As the villager's accusations and threats grew harsher, her gentle warmth and soft assurances of safety retreated bit by bit until he expected them too be stamped out completely into silence.

Instead, that soft warmth burst into flame.

He had believed her a sweet-tempered, soft-hearted soul who had taken pity on him. He had been wrong.

Because the woman who spoke now was neither soft nor sweet. Her temper flared brightly and as the villagers demanded he was cast out from their village - it caught fire.

It was odd, to hear a stranger speak up in his defence. It was, perhaps even stranger, to hear a young woman, a civilian speak so passionately about their duty to one another, about caring for their own, whether they are shinobi or not.

It was astounding that, so far from Konoha, on the very border of Fire country, he would meet someone whose very soul embodied their Will of Fire.

A.N. My first attempt at writing in either Anime fandom… :) I'm hoping this will get my writing going again.

I didn't name the shinobi here because it really could have been a number of people. Naruto has such an interestingly large cast of characters! For now I like that this chapter has the potential for many different continuations.