Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. Any similarities between real people, living or dead, or places, standing or demolished, in this story are just coincidences.
But if you like what I do and want to support me, you are more than welcome to donate on Place of Patrons.
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[12 Years Before Present Day]
Under the dim glow of lanterns strung across the market of Konoha, Mizuki and Tsubaki strolled hand in hand. The night brought a coolness that eased the day's heat, and the bustling sounds of the market filled the air with a lively buzz. Tsubaki, with her short, elegant black hair and refined features, turned heads even in the simple act of walking beside him.
"Wait up, Tsubaki."
Tsubaki turned, her smile radiant. "Keep up."
"Okay," Mizuki replied, a hint of defeat in his voice as he quickened his steps.
Her hand found his, her grip firm and reassuring. Then, with a gesture filled with meaning, she placed his hand on her stomach.
"Look, I'm sure you'll get the position of a teacher at the academy. I know it, and he knows it," she said softly, nodding towards her belly, their unborn child.
Mizuki sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Thanks, but I heard that because of the mission controversy, I won't get the job," he confessed, turning his gaze away to hide the worry etching his features.
It had only been a month since his promotion to Chunin, and his first mission with a new team had ended in disaster. They had been attacked; one teammate was killed, another grievously wounded. Mizuki had made a split-second decision to kill the liability to ensure the mission's success. But back in Konoha, rumors swirled, accusing him of murder. An investigation cleared him for lack of evidence, but the damage was done.
The whispers continued, staining his reputation and jeopardizing his chance at a stable, safer job within the academy walls.
So unfair, Mizuki thought bitterly as they paused by a prize stand. I just made sure the mission was a 100% success, yet some rumors are keeping me from a safer position for my family.
Tsubaki's voice drew him back from his brooding. "Come on, win me something."
Mizuki managed a small smile and played one of the games, winning her a simple children's toy bracelet. "Why are you looking at it like that? It's just a children's toy bracelet."
"So, you won this for me, and now that makes this a national treasure."
Mizuki laughed, feeling a momentary lift in his spirits.
"Look, I'll try again for the position, and once we have enough money, let's have a proper wedding this time, none of that paper stuff."
"But that's expensive."
"And you deserve every dime that is spent," Mizuki responded firmly, his gaze meeting hers with a resolve that felt unshakeable at that moment. Her blush, the soft lighting of the market, the hum of the night around them—it all coalesced into a moment of pure, simple happiness.
But just then, they felt it—a disturbance that seemed to ripple through the air, a prelude to something neither of them could have anticipated.
Mizuki's breath hitched, his heart thundering painfully against his ribs as he and everyone around him felt it—a suffocating, mind-numbing killer intent that paralyzed the market. Civilians stood frozen, their eyes wide with terror, while the ninjas barely managed to keep their bodies moving, reinforcing themselves with chakra just to remain upright. His gaze was drawn irresistibly upwards, and what he saw stole the very breath from his lungs.
Looming over the city was a giant creature of nightmares—the Kyūbi no Yōko.
Its fierce red eyes and sharp fangs were a stark contrast against the backdrop of a city ablaze. Dark, voluminous tails fanned out aggressively, its fearsome demeanor enhanced by the ominous glow of the flames that cast an eerie light on the scattered clouds above.
The buildings appeared diminutive and frail under the massive form of the monster.
As the Kyūbi roared, the sheer force of its cry shattered windows and ruptured the eardrums of unprotected civilians, while the ninjas hastily bolstered their defenses with chakra.
Mizuki's heart raced with dread, his body frozen in terror.
Then, he saw it—the Kyūbi's tail, a massive, dark appendage, swung with destructive force directly towards the market.
Mizuki's mind screamed for him to move, to escape, but his body betrayed him, rooted to the spot in utter helplessness.
Is this how I die?
In that heartbeat of terror, Mizuki felt a sudden force hurl him to the side. He spun through the air, disoriented, only to see Tsubaki where he had stood. Her face was serene, almost smiling, as she pushed him out of harm's way.
The Kyūbi's tail crashed down where they had just been, turning everything to chaos and destruction. The market was obliterated in an instant, and Tsubaki... she was gone, reduced to nothing in the wake of the beast's fury.
Mizuki hit the ground hard, rolling to a stop covered in the blood that splattered from the impact—Tsubaki's blood.
He lay there, stunned and shattered, his eyes fixed on the broken bracelet that lay amidst the debris—a child's toy, now a relic of the life he had just lost. His body trembled uncontrollably, tears mingling with the blood on his face as the realization set in.
Tsubaki was gone.
The fear, the grief—it was overwhelming, drowning him in a sea of despair as around him, the city continued to burn and ninjas rallied to a fight they could barely hope to win.
As the Third Hokage's staff rallied to push the Kyūbi out of the village, and ninjas scrambled to aid in the defense, Mizuki walked through the turmoil detached and distant.
He clutched a small bracelet tightly in his hand.
His steps were automatic, devoid of direction or purpose, as if he were just going through the motions of living.
Around him, the chaos of battle roared—the guttural cries of the Kyūbi, the sharp commands of the ninja, the panicked screams of civilians. Yet, these sounds seemed distant, muffled as though he were submerged in deep water, separate from the reality everyone else occupied.
His gaze was vacant, his eyes not really seeing the destruction or the effort to contain it.
Instead, they stared blankly ahead, unfocused and uncomprehending. Everything appeared to him as a hazy, indistinct blur—unreal, like a dream one might struggle to remember. He was shell-shocked, overwhelmed by the sudden and complete loss of everything he held dear—his wife, his unborn child, his future—all obliterated in an instant by a force so monstrous, so beyond his or anyone's control, it rendered him utterly helpless.
Mizuki's home, or what was left of it, loomed ahead, a crumpled heap of debris that no longer bore any resemblance to the sanctuary it had been. He stopped, his feet grinding to a halt as his eyes took in the devastation.
This couldn't be real; it had to be a nightmare. But the cold bite of the night air, the acrid smell of smoke and burning, and the sharp pain from the gravel digging into his palms as he fell to his knees told him otherwise.
He broke then, a ragged sob tearing from his throat, raw and loud in the eerie silence that followed the distant battle. The bracelet fell from his limp hand, landing softly among the ashes. Tears finally came, hot and unrelenting, streaming down his face as he gathered the dirt and rubble in his hands, trying futilely to piece back together the remnants of his shattered life.
"Why?" he screamed at the uncaring sky, his voice breaking. I did everything right! Why her? Why us?
His body shook with each sob. Mizuki sat there, his gaze fixed on the ground, not knowing how much time had passed until he heard a voice break through the fog on his mind.
"Mizuki, finally I found you."
As Iruka wrapped his arms around him in a comforting hug, Mizuki felt an odd urge to unleash all his pent-up anger and despair on him but restrained himself—or perhaps it was the grief that dulled his desire to lash out.
Iruka stayed by his side for hours, murmuring words meant to soothe, but Mizuki barely listened.
To Iruka, they were friends, but to Mizuki, Iruka had always been something else—a benchmark against which he measured his own inadequacies. Iruka, who was always more talented, more respected, yet never aspired to anything greater.
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Mizuki had simmered with jealousy, cloaking it in a façade of friendship, using their closeness as a means to keep prodding at Iruka's contentment, trying to find some crack in his serene existence. In his twisted view, Mizuki had won the only competition that mattered to him—he had won Tsubaki's heart, triumphing over Iruka in the silent war he believed they were fighting.
Now, that victory tasted bitter. Tsubaki was gone, and with her, the significance of his triumph over Iruka.
Mizuki barely noticed when Iruka left. His departure was a non-event, insignificant in the grand scale of Mizuki's new reality. What did friendship matter now? What did petty rivalries matter when he had been rendered so utterly powerless and bereft?
All that mattered now was power—the kind of power that could prevent him from ever feeling this helpless again. The kind of power that would ensure the world could never again take anything from him.
Driven by this dark resolve, Mizuki knew there was only one person who could give him what he craved.
Orochimaru.
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[Present Day]
Mizuki's consciousness jolted back harshly as he found himself being escorted by ANBU. His body felt disconnected, numb; he couldn't feel his legs. Glancing down, horror settled in as he saw Lord Orochimaru's cursed seal on his arm, now buried under hundreds of additional seals.
His mind scrambled to piece together the last events he remembered: an attack on Iruka and that demon brat, followed by an explosion.
The cursed seal must have activated.
Before he could process more, he was roughly thrown into a prison cell.
The walls of the Konoha Strict Correctional Facility closed in around him, a place rumored for detaining ninjas until their death, offering no comfort, only a stark 6ft by 6ft cell. Yet, this cell felt unusually spacious, which puzzled him briefly in his haze.
Suddenly, a sound echoed as something hit the ground.
The darkness in the cell parted with moonlight, revealing a young boy, skin pale as death, making some sort of painting on the wall.
"How do you like my painting, loser?"
Anger flared momentarily in Mizuki, only to be replaced by shock as he felt arms wrap around him from behind.
"Long time no see, Mizuki," a familiar voice cooed, a voice that dredged up depths of emotion Mizuki hadn't felt since before the disaster that took everything from him. Turning, he saw Tsubaki, or someone who looked hauntingly like her.
"How?" he managed to choke out, tears welling up in his eyes. His speech was slurred and unclear, his missing teeth making each word a struggle.
"Oh, that's not important. I have a question for you. After that, we can be together again," the vision of Tsubaki spoke smoothly, her voice unnervingly calm.
"Anything."
"Did Orochimaru order you to steal the Forbidden Scroll of Seals?"
"No, I just wanted to steal it for him, to show I was worthy of his respect."
Laughter filled the cell, cruel and mocking, coming from both Tsubaki and the strange boy.
"You're supposed to laugh when someone does something pathetic, right?" the boy commented, sending shivers down Mizuki's spine.
What?
As the illusion shattered, Mizuki found himself not in a cell but in an interrogation room. He faced the strange boy, seated coolly across from him, with two ANBU stationed silently behind. The boy's next words sent a shiver down Mizuki's spine.
"Hey, let me give you and your dead wife a stupid reunion," the boy taunted, pointing at a canvas painted with Tsubaki's image. Suddenly, the ink began to drip from the painting, morphing into a humanoid figure of Tsubaki made entirely of ink. The sight filled Mizuki with a cold dread, a premonition of his looming death.
"Please," Mizuki started, desperation in his voice, only to be met with the boy's unsettling smile—a facade, like a mask worn to conceal true intentions.
"Who are you?"
"I don't know, but if I had to pick a name, I'll call myself Sai," the boy replied casually, snapping his fingers. The ink-formed Tsubaki moved behind Mizuki, gripping his head firmly on both sides.
"Why are you doing this?"
"The Hawk bids you goodbye."
The name "The Hawk" echoed in his mind—a shadowy figure within Konoha, a supposed ally under Orochimaru's command. This figure had directed him, fed him plans, and now, seemingly, had led him to his end.
Why am I being discarded? Mizuki's thoughts spiraled. Was The Hawk never really working for Orochimaru? Was this all a setup?
Every mission, every act of sabotage against the academy students, even the orchestration of the theft of the Forbidden Scroll—it all came back to him in a rush. He had worked diligently, believing he was accruing favor with Orochimaru, aiming for a rank and respect he deserved.
I've been such a fool.
The ink-formed Tsubaki tightened its grip, a cruel imitation of the wife he had lost, turning his memories into weapons against him. As the life was literally squeezed out of him, his eyes locked onto the young boy named Sai, whose expression bore a dispassionate smile.
"Loser."
It was a confirmation of all his failures—a man who had lost everything, manipulated and discarded by forces greater than him.
As his vision blurred into the encroaching darkness, Mizuki's last thoughts were filled with regret and a profound realization of his own insignificance. He had been a pawn in a game too complex for him to ever control, and now, he was paying the ultimate price.
Crack!
Sai stood over Mizuki's lifeless body, the head reduced to a gruesome goop of blood and bone.
"Relay to Lord Danzo," Sai instructed, his voice even and detached. "Operative Mizuki has been neutralized. The disinformation campaign is complete, and it has been verified—Mizuki had no affiliations with Orochimaru."
"Affirmative."
"Ensure all traces are scrubbed. Implement Protocol Echo Romeo Four to secure the perimeter and initiate a misinformation loop to cover this extraction."
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The ANBU headquarters, standing for Ansatsu Senjutsu Tokushu Butai (Special Assassination and Tactical Squad), held an office that was as unremarkable as they come. Plain, functional, and devoid of any embellishment—it was clear that the village saw no reason to allocate any of its budget to spruce up a space meant purely for formalities.
The commander sat engrossed in a report from the Rice country about a series of unsettling kidnappings around the border. The mask, a white porcelain with the likeness of a dragon, was marked distinctly with three red fang-like symbols on its forehead.
"The front door is there," Dragon stated, his voice cutting through the room's stillness. From the shadows, a figure emerged, his presence contradictory to the stealth expected of a ninja. He was an old man, seemingly frail, leaning on a cane for support, with grey, shaggy hair and notable features—a bandaged right eye and an X-shaped scar on his chin. The War Hawk of Konoha. Shimura Danzo.
Without a word, Danzo tossed a file onto Dragon's desk, prompting only a raised eyebrow from the commander. The file bore the name Naruto Uzumaki.
Hmm, looks like you have caught the attention of someone you shouldn't have, boy.
"A Taijutsu style that doesn't exist in Konoha and a style that belongs to the Senju clan," he read aloud, glancing briefly at the emotionless Danzo. "Kenjutsu skills on the same level as a samurai ... Having a few unknown Jutsus that are B to A rank."
His eyes darted across the pages. When he reached the section on Fuinjutsu, he paused, re-reading it several times, alarmed by the depth of knowledge the Jinchuriki appeared to possess.
"What do you want?" Dragon finally asked, locking eyes with Danzo.
"Recruit him into the ANBU and find out his secrets. Either make the boy into a weapon for Konoha or find out if his little secret can be replicated," Danzo instructed, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.
"You think Hiruzen would agree?"
"Use what you can and can't. Hiruzen trusts you, exploit it and ensure that the mission is completed," Danzo pressed on, beginning to unwrap the bandage around his eye, revealing burnt scarred skin and an eyelid-less Sharingan eye.
"Is that necessary?" Dragon asked, a hint of resistance in his voice.
"You are resisting. It is just countermeasures for if you go against Konoha's interests."
"Konoha or your interests?"
"My interests are Konoha's interests," Danzo declared, the Sharingan in his eye beginning to spin and change as the war hawk reinforced Kotoamatsukami on the anbu commander.
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"There is absolutely no way," Hiruzen Sarutobi said firmly to his cloaked, masked interlocutor, with all the might his sixty-year-old, war-veteran frame could muster. And the so-called Professor could muster a lot of might.
"He will go to waste."
"He will have a normal team and learn normally—"
"Just like he was supposed to have a normal childhood?"
Dragon interrupted the Kage, their distorted voice cutting through the old man's answer.
"I will not listen to your recriminations," said the Hokage, his tone commanding. "I followed the will—"
"Of a dying, delirious man. And you will listen to my recriminations, Hiruzen. You made mistakes, many, not all of the same gravity, but it is time you admit to it and handle the fallout. I offer you a way out of it."
"There is no reason for him to join. There is no need to put him through this grinder."
"How much more time will you coddle him? How much more time will you hide the truth from him? We are ninja, Hiruzen!"
Dragon exclaimed, twitching slightly, his raised tone the only mark of his agitation. "Or are you too cowardly? Is that it? Will you wait for your successor to break him the news?"
Killing intent exploded and drowned the office, bending the floor and cracking the large pane of glass behind the old man's desk.
"Watch your tongue, Dragon. You are talking to your Hokage," bit Hiruzen in an ice-cold voice.
"Then assume this damned hat and the responsibilities that go with it."
The answer was equally cold.
"Do you think you are the only one too old for your job? This mask is just as heavy."
An uneasy silence blanketed the room, and the Hokage could only palm his face in weariness.
"Forgive me, Dragon," Hiruzen sighed. "Still, I see no reason for the boy to join the corps."
"What is your plan for him?"
"The classic balance, under Jonin Hatake."
"Your officers are definitely out of their minds. Have you even looked at the profiling?"
The Hokage took a breath in. "No."
Dragon resisted the urge to slap his forehead. The mask was quite resistant; it would hurt needlessly.
"It is a disaster waiting to happen. He definitely won't fit, and Hatake's own situation will probably make it worse. No, Hiruzen, it's a sad plan and it's going to fail."
"ANBU is not a way to begin your ninja career normally."
Dragon threw his arms in the air. "He will never live normally, Hiruzen! You need to accept that. He did not have a normal childhood, and he certainly won't have a normal ninja career. Now, your decision already made his infancy a living hell; do you want to do the same with his ninja life?"
The Hokage released the breath he had been holding, and his shoulders sagged under his white robes.
"ANBU will warp him."
"Being a ninja will warp him, Hiruzen. Now you must decide if it will also kill him or not."
"You will not let this issue go, am I right?"
"Absolutely not, Hiruzen. He has too much potential. He is too much potential."
"You will not use him, Dragon!"
"Hiruzen! I know you love the kid, hell, he is pretty likable, but that does not change what he contains."
"We never had to funnel them through ANBU before."
Even behind the mask, Hiruzen could feel the deadpan look Dragon was giving him. "Because the first was already an accomplished ninja, and the second's status was actually a secret. Hiruzen, this discussion is over; I am taking the boy. If you still protest, I will make use of very, very tiresome legalese and reveal some secrets to have my way. It will give you paperwork, and I'll still have him."
Dragon stated in a tone that was final.
"Do we make this the easy or the hard way?"
Hiruzen paled. Whether it was at the threat of secrets being revealed or supplementary paperwork added to the pile, none could tell. He sighed.
"The easy way," the old man said, distraught.
Dragon nodded and gave his Hokage an eye-roll so powerful, the old man could hear it.
"By the flame, don't treat him like he is already dead, Hiruzen. I'll make sure he'll visit you. And if you desire, he'll have a certain talk with you, but remember this: Naruto Uzumaki belongs to the ANBU of Konoha."
Hiruzen sighed.
"Let the boy decide. If it's his choice to join, I won't interfere, but..."
This time Dragon felt not Hiruzen but the God of Shinobi gazing upon him, the threat clear.
"Understood."