Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Concessions ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )

Concessions

A Naruto Fan fiction

By systaticism

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Chapter Two

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This baby business was stressful. Highly stressful. At least, it was for Naruto—not that he had an expert on call to consult with. (He could picture how that would go: ”Hey mister, when you were a teen stuck in a baby's body, how did you feel?”)

 

The point was (and yes, he was conversing with himself now—it's not like he could do it with anyone else), now that he had to start from the beginning again, he couldn't eat good food. What's on the menu? Milk, milk... and, oh, more milk! He dreaded the thought of graduating onto disgustingly mushy baby food that would probably taste like overcooked feet. He resisted the urge to whimper. How he wished for a steaming bowl of delicious, mouth-watering, miso ramen… And as entertaining as it was to see Minato make retarded faces, thinking his `baby' boy enjoyed them when he was, in reality, laughing himself silly at the poor bastard, there was only so much of that that he could tolerate.

 

He was bored. He was lonely. His vocal chords weren't developed enough to make anything other than inarticulate gurgling (and he had sure as hell tried). The diapers were a whole different story. Humiliating and disgusting didn't even begin to cover them. He could not wait to be able to use a toilet again. And, by Kami, just why did babies have to sleep so much?!

 

He was sulking and he knew it, but everything was passing so slowly! Naruto glowered at his reflection in the water at his feet. It wasn't that he had any real sense of time, because he didn't, but he was impatient. Madara was out there; he had put the Kyuubi up to attacking Konoha, and had gotten away.

 

Naruto wasn't sure if Pein's intention had been to keep the Yondaime alive (his dad could probably kick Akatsuki's collective asses and look cool doing it!) or if this—his status as a newborn—was the man's idea of a joke, or if… or if Nagato had meant to give him a chance at having a childhood before he had to clean up the world's dirty laundry. However, despite not knowing his reasons for doing this, Naruto was grateful… even when stuck in soggy diapers.

 

He sighed and dragged a hand through his hair, still in front of Kyuubi's cage while his fragile body slept. Now all this free time was making him think. A wry smile crept onto his face.

 

Naruto wondered if pigs were finally flying.

 

*

 

“He's going to have a complex, you know.” Those were the first words out of his sensei's mouth when he entered his student's office through the window.

 

Minato raised an eyebrow from his position on a couch on the side of the room. A shadow clone was doing paperwork at his desk while he tended his son. “How so?” he asked.

 

“There are rumors going around that you never put the kid down. He'll be ridiculously spoiled, I'll bet.”

 

Minato laughed, “He certainly will be!” He turned the abruptly squirming child around to face Jiraiya, who was watching the pair with a smirk and smiling eyes.

 

“He'll be a looker, just like his father.”

 

Minato snorted, shook his head, and said, “Here, take him. He wants you.” And Naruto did. The baby was gurgling and reaching towards the tall sannin anxiously, chubby fists waving.

 

Jiraiya scooped him up in large but gentle hands, and nestled the newborn in the crook of his arm. He grinned at the child and jiggled his index finger under the boy's chin. Naruto had calmed instantly once he was within the sannin's grasp, and had latched a surprisingly strong grip on Jiraiya's red vest.

 

The older man turned serious eyes onto his student, all signs of joking and happiness gone. “How are you holding up?” he asked.

 

Minato, who had dismissed his clone and reclaimed his office chair, sighed and slumped back into soft padding, “Not too well,” he admitted. Dark circles had formed under his eyes and he looked to have lost weight in the week since the Kyuubi attack. Naruto had been a blessing with his toothless smiles and warm weight, and though he kept odd hours, the cheerful baby proved to be a soothing balm on his worn soul.

 

Jiraiya's keen eyes caught his student's exhaustion. The man must have been run ragged by now with a flood new citizenship papers, establishing refugee funds, the rebuilding of Konoha's shinobi force, and organizing the new orphanages designed to house the many parentless children. He nodded, unsurprised, and broke the silence, “I heard about Kushina.”

 

The Yondaime's lips pursed and his jaw tensed. “Blunt as ever, sensei,” he ground out.

 

Jiraiya sighed and walked forward to place a hand on the blond man's stiff shoulder. “You need to talk about it,” he said. “As much as Naruto needs you, as much as Konoha needs you, you can't let yourself become so wrapped up in your duties that you ignore your own grief.”

 

Minato clenched his eyes shut and rubbed them with his thumb and forefinger. He tried to ignore their sudden burning. “I'm sure you know what happened,” he said at last. Kami, he didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to think about it. His eyes were glued to the only uncluttered area on his desk, and he observed the dark grain with forced fascination.

 

The sannin grunted. He wasn't one for rumors when they concerned something so delicate. “Not completely and not from you,” he retorted. “Tell me.”

 

The young Hokage sucked in a shaky breath. “She went into labor the night before, around eleven,” he began. “We weren't expecting it, and, at the time, we thought that it couldn't have happened at a worse moment. A team of scouts had just reported about Kyuubi's approach. We had scant hours to find a way to divert or stop it. Everyone was frantic—we were trying to get the civilians into the shelters and the forces mobilized…

 

“She had been in the middle of giving out orders to the Arufa-C's—” Jiraiya nodded at the mention of Konoha's Elite Alpha Chuunin units; Kushina had been instated as their Jounin Commander a year before, “—when her water broke. She hadn't told me she'd been having pains for hours beforehand—said that she was `a shinobi, not some pansy-assed toddler who'd skinned their knee'. By the gods, she was still handing out orders from the hospital bed!”

 

Jiraiya chuckled, “That sounds like her, all right.”

 

Minato grinned momentarily before his face blanked of all emotion. He received a comforting squeeze on his shoulder.

 

“She was in labor for exactly seventeen hours and sixteen minutes, and I wasn't there.” His eyes shifted to his sensei, and then to his son, who stared back through half-lidded eyes. “I wasn't there for the birth of my son.” His voice was a mere whisper. Minato tried to swallow against the enormous ball of emotion lodged in his throat.

 

There was silence in the circular room for a long moment, only broken by Minato's heavy gasps and Jiraiya and Naruto's soft breaths.

 

“I was lucky I had already been working on tertiary containment seals and secondary filters layered with primary and secondary chakra redirection matrixes… It was just some doodles—ideas I'd been fiddling with in my free time; a challenge.” Jiraiya nodded. Minato was brilliant with seals, a far greater master than himself. “If I hadn't—”

 

His student broke off and turned haunted eyes on his sensei, “—I was fully willing to sell my soul and use my newborn son to ensure the safety of my home. And I was going to do it with an untested seal that was, in reality, only a prototype—a theory. The damn thing was incomplete.”

 

Jiraiya eyed his student sadly, unable to do anything to lessen the man's pain, except listen.

 

“I took Naruto as soon as he was stabilized—his umbilical cord had been wrapped around his neck. Kushina put up a hell of a fight—told me I was stupid, suicidal, and entirely too self-sacrificing. She was right, of course, but I didn't see an alternate choice. I had to convince her that I wouldn't allow Naruto to die before she backed off. I checked in with Sarutobi, made him stay put, before I went out to die, to condemn my son to the life of a container.”

 

Jiraiya's breath hitched and his eyes widened at this revelation. Naruto? A jinchuuriki? He didn't voice his questions, instead letting Minato continue.

 

The Fourth licked his chapped lips before persisting with an unsteady voice. “I had accepted,” he said, “that she would listen to me, that she would stay safe and out of the way. I honestly don't know what she thought she was doing; if she had been trying to give me more time, or to ensure that Naruto was safe, or if she was jumping into the fray because of some misguided sense of duty, but she went out there, on the front line, and got herself killed.” He paused.

 

“I… I remember thinking of how proud I was of my comrades, of my people. They were fighting even though it was certain death. I considered them brave, heroic.” He shook his head and his lips quivered. “Now, when I've lost my wife, my friends, and almost gave my life to power a seal I wasn't sure was going to work, I can't help but wonder if it was stupidity, not bravery, that kept them out there, that made Kushina run out to `help' right after labor when she knew I wasn't going to come back.”

 

He was breaking the shinobi code now, and he was positive that his tear-streaked face and bloodshot eyes looked horrendous.

 

He didn't ask when Jiraiya produced a bottle of sake and two saucers out of nowhere, instead choosing to down two rapid shots of the stiff drink. He relished the slight warming in his belly before setting the cup aside and retrieving Naruto from Jiraiya's arms. He snuggled the boy to him, burying his nose in the downy hair, and breathed easier now that he had his son close.

 

“I don't know if I'll ever recover from her death, Jiraiya-sensei,” he whispered. “It's going to be hard, raising Naruto on my own, but I wouldn't do anything to change that.”

 

“I'm glad,” Jiraiya said. He was sipping sake from his own saucer. “Have you arranged protection yet?” he asked, eyeing the ANBU reports—non-confidential—on the corner of Minato's large desk.

 

The Yondaime's lips thinned and his grip on Naruto tightened. He didn't like the idea of having to protect Naruto so thoroughly, that his reputation and position would put his baby in danger, but there was no arguing Jiraiya's point. At least the man hadn't suggested—unlike his secretary—that Minato get a nanny, a minder. As if Minato would let anyone but himself raise his son.

 

He'd probably assign Division 1's first squad… and second… and maybe third.

Jiraiya peeked over the man's shoulder at his student's scribbled notes and rolled his eyes. “No need to assign an entire division to guard the kid, Minato. One or two squads will be fine,” he said, “not five.”

 

Okay, so he might have been a bit excessive in trying to assign the entire Alpha ANBU division to guard a single baby—Hokage's son or not. Minato grunted and scratched out a large portion of his writing. “Fine,” he sighed. “I'll assign squad A1 to close proximity and A2 to perimeter watch.”

 

“Next thing I'll hear, you'll be wrapping him in bubble-wrap,” the toad sannin joked. Minato didn't laugh, and Jiraiya's face turned incredulous. “Please tell me you weren't actually thinking of doing that, Minato!”

 

No, he wasn't... at least not with bubble-wrap—too easy to bypass and too noisy. Rubber, maybe?

 

His musings were interrupted by Jiraiya's rather bulky hand imparting ancient—painful—wisdom to his skull, followed by a loud groan of exasperation. “Minato, don't overdo it. Your over-protective tendencies are bad enough without you seriously considering dumb—and I mean completely and utterly, without-a-doubt stupid—ideas like that.”

 

Minato huffed, but conceded. He'd have to make do with eight of his elite fighters. He grinned suddenly. “Hey, sensei,” he said, “I wonder what they'll do when they hear they've got babysitting duty.”

 

The sannin's amused snort was his only answer.

 

*

 

Naruto paced the length of floor in front of Kyuubi's cage restlessly. His feet made sloshing sounds in the ankle-deep water with every step. He pointedly ignored the great slumbering beast behind the bars.

 

He'd had so many hopes when he discovered that he was in the past. His heart had warmed and in him awoke an even fiercer resolve to fight. For Jiraiya, for Tsunade, for all his friends-for the future that they may one day have. And he had hoped, fervently, that his mother would be alive this time around. When Naruto saw that the Fourth—his father—had survived the sealing, he'd felt a surge of excitement in his chest. It wouldn't have been such a huge stretch of the imagination for his mother to have also survived.

 

Kushina… After so many years, he finally knew who his mother was. And yet Naruto would rather have preferred to have never known it. The affection that he had harbored for this woman who had delivered him into the world had all but vanished upon overhearing his father's words to the old man and Ero-sennin. His happy illusion of family had been shattered. He hadn't been sure what to think at first-resounding cries of disbelief lodging in his throat.

 

Then came anger. Indignation. His mother had abandoned him. Knowing that his father was as good as dead, she had rushed into the arms of war with the certainty of orphaning him, her very own son. After finding out about his parents, however a short time ago that had been, he had dreamed up the idea that Kushina (such a pretty, now meaningless, name) had died nobly—in childbirth, maybe, or perhaps he had been delivered on the battlefield. But abandonment? Even when she possessed full knowledge of what fate would most certainly befall him?

 

Next it was hurt and betrayal. The knowledge that he would never hear his mother's voice, or smell her hair, or see her smile firsthand. It hurt to know that when it came down to it, his mother, his mother, had chosen to die rather than stay with her child.

 

After that, after the heartache and the tears he could only shed in front of a merciless demon, after hearing his father's own pain, came apathy. He no longer felt that burning curiosity to know his parents. He knew now, the answer to the question that all orphans kept in their hearts - where did I come from? For the first time in his life, Naruto did not long for a mother, did not feel anger at his parents for leaving him to a life overflowing with closed doors and hate-filled glances. Was it cruel, to feel nothing for the woman who gave birth to him? The woman who left him for blood and misery and death? The mother who he had longed for his whole life?

 

It was strange, this new feeling. There were still traces of disappointment and hurt, but the aching void, caused by his parents' absence, now filled with the presence of the one person that, when it came down to it, truly mattered. The vacant space in his heart, the one that he had desperately tried to fill with person after person just to make that pain stop—Iruka, Kakashi, Jiraiya, and Tsunade—it was gloriously full, and with only one person.

 

His father. Energetic and brilliant, and a person who loved Naruto so very much that he could feel it radiate from the man. And to know that your existence made someone happy, to know that someone took joy in the fact that you breathed, that you lived, and be secure in that knowledge…

That was bliss.

 

*

 

The air between the Third and Fourth Hokages was tense. The two, plus little Naruto, were settled in Minato's living room, a tea tray on the low table between them. Minato tried to hide his discomfort at the atmosphere and Naruto's constant wriggling didn't help.

 

“I—” he started, “I want to apologize.” He'd been agonizing over the conversation with Sarutobi a week before. Not being on good terms with the man—which had been entirely his fault; he had avoided his predecessor like the plague—had unsettled him.

 

Sarutobi raised an enquiring eyebrow. “Whatever for?” he asked.

 

His successor sighed. “For last week,” the blond stated. “I was out of line. I could give you a dozen reasons why I lost my temper, but it doesn't excuse the fact that I was inconsiderate and rude to not just my elder, but my much appreciated and treasured teacher.”

 

The Third smiled genially, elated at the affectionate praise. He had missed the younger man, but had given him space to think—his life had, after all, been turned upside down in a matter of minutes and Sarutobi had simply pushed the right buttons at the wrong time. “I understand, Minato. I accept your apology and also offer one of my own regarding the accusations I laid against you and your son.”

 

Minato shook his head, “Your concerns were valid, Sarutobi-sensei. You had every right to question what happened, to prepare for the worst. I let my feelings for my son—and Kushina—get in the way.”

 

“Nonetheless,” Sarutobi said, “I should have been more tactful with my inquiries.”

 

There was silence before both men chuckled. “We sound like old windbags,” Minato grinned.

 

“You sound like an old windbag,” Hiruzen rebutted, “whereas I am an old windbag.”

 

“And proud of it, I bet,” Minato smirked. He received a haughty nod, followed by a wink. Minato's muscles relaxed and he burrowed into the embrace of the cushioned couch beneath him, glad that he and Hiruzen were on speaking terms once more.

 

The men spent a length of time talking about their families after their apologies. Minato was, by far, the most enthusiastic of the pair as he described his first experiences in fatherhood. He enlightened Sarutobi to Naruto's astonishing intelligence. He hadn't expected to enjoy caring for a baby as much as he did. Sarutobi was proud to see that Minato had taken to parentage like a fish to water.

 

Minato's face had eased into an affectionate smile. “He's surprisingly undemanding. I get up at all hours of the night, of course, but he doesn't cry much at all.” The Fourth's gaze dropped to his son's face. “He's a happy baby.”

 

Work was, for the moment, put on hold. Minato appreciated the break, short as it would be. He'd been running himself ragged trying to clean up after the Kyuubi attack a week prior. Konoha itself had still been suffering from the Third Great Shinobi War (which had ended a year previous) when the Kyuubi had attacked; the grave deficit in manpower and influx in refugees had hurt the village's economy badly. The further widespread destruction of infrastructure and lives that had resulted from the coming of Kyuubi had put Konoha into a serious bind. Both Jiraiya—whose arrival they were waiting for—and Sarutobi had proven to be invaluable to Konoha's reconstruction.

 

Sarutobi had taken over the organization of the orphanages and the accompanying adoptions, along with civilian supplies and housing—even after Minato's outburst and subsequent evasion. Jiraiya, on the other hand, had taken an enormous shine to Naruto—a surprise, as the man had never acted like one to take to children so quickly. Minato's old genin team had taken `field trips' to the hot springs more often than was appropriate and been left to their own devices while their sensei peeked on oblivious female bathers. Jiraiya had watched Naruto while Minato attended meetings and went to places where bringing a child would be improper.

 

Naruto seemed quite content to be around either of the elder men, and Minato could tell that the boy would have all three males wrapped around his little finger soon, if they weren't already. He had a faint suspicion that the ANBU squads would soon follow, once they spent enough time with the cheerful child.

 

His musings were interrupted by Jiraiya's entrance. The tall man quickly swiped Naruto from his father's grasp and nestled into an armchair, wrapped protectively around the young boy. “So what's this about?” he asked. His mood was sour—he'd given up valuable research time at the bathing house for this. It was his own break from work; he'd been working on the Ninja Academy's curriculum to arrange for an accelerated program when he wasn't watching Minato's—admittedly adorable—brat.

 

Minato sighed in resignation. Back to work, it seemed. “It's about the Kyuubi attack,” he confessed, “or rather, the person behind it.”

 

Sarutobi and Jiraiya sat up straight at his words, all pretenses of play forgotten.

 

It'd taken a while for Minato to place the man's face, but he'd eventually come up with a name. The rest was mostly speculation. The fact that there was an authority trying to aid or cause Konoha's destruction (and one powerful enough to utilize the Kyuubi to do it) was reason enough to worry, whether his theories were valid or not.

 

Hiruzen hesitated only briefly before asking, “What do you mean?” His demeanor was poised. The life of a ninja desensitized one to surprises, but his tone was no less urgent.

 

“Uchiha Madara,” was all Minato said in reply. The name garnered raised eyebrows from the Sandaime—which he expected—and a blank look from Jiraiya—also expected.

 

“You're not joking.” Minato's childhood sensei gawped, disbelieving. “But he's dead! How could he have engineered the Kyuubi attack?”

 

The Yondaime shook his head. “I'm not sure, but I know what I saw.” He wished he could be completely certain, but there was little in the shinobi world that could be taken at face value. Underneath the underneath, as he always said.

 

“How did you come to this conclusion?” Ever the scholar, Sarutobi gave Minato the push he needed to re-organize his thoughts.

 

“He was there, that night. I'm not certain why he went unnoticed, though that can be attributed to a genjutsu—it is, after all, within the power of the Sharingan. I only caught sight of him because he abandoned the Kyuubi's head when I approached on Gamabunta.” Minato had only glimpsed him, but it had been enough. He hadn't said anything about it because there were more pressing matters beforehand.

 

He grimaced. “I know it sounds far-fetched, but we all know that it's not impossible. It wouldn't be outrageous to think that Madara could have developed something like an immortality technique. He was powerful enough to challenge the Shodaime decades ago and, on top of that, was capable of controlling the Kyuubi. Either way, we can't do anything—for the moment.”

 

Sarutobi nodded, folding his arms and leaning back into his seat. “You're right. We'll have to keep an eye out for Madara in the future, regardless of how ridiculous your theory sounds.”

 

Jiraiya, after a long silence, finally spoke. His voice reflected the worry on his face. “Minato, if we're talking about Madara and the Kyuubi, then we need to factor in Naruto as well.”

 

The Sandaime nodded, while Minato noticeably stiffened. He was not going to let some senile, power-tripping old fossil with a case of severe pink eye anywhere near his son. Jiraiya, recognizing Minato's abrupt mood swing, sighed. He handed Naruto back to the boy's father in an attempt to cool him off. It worked, thankfully.

 

“Neither sensei nor I will be speaking to anyone about Naruto's status,” Jiraiya assured. “Unless there's an incident, his secret will be safe.”

 

Minato's lips pursed; he was furious that Jiraiya's reasoning hadn't crossed his mind earlier. His eyes lifted to Hiruzen's face when the man cleared his throat.

 

“Was that the most important issue?”

 

Minato nodded. It had been for this conversation that he put a web of secrecy seals up over the pre-existing ones.

 

“Then Jiraiya and I will take our leave. We can discuss other business later.” The old man stood, grimacing at his protesting bones. He patted Minato's shoulder; an action mirrored by Jiraiya, and drifted a careful hand over the downy hair on Naruto's head.

 

“Spend some time with Naruto,” he ordered. The elderly man eyed the dark circles under Minato's eyes and shook his head. “Sleep, too. You'll burn yourself out with the amount of rest you're getting, and then you'll be of no use to anyone.”

 

Minato could do little else except nod, accepting Sarutobi's logic. He was exhausted. He bade farewell to both men before retreating to his bedroom, having moved Naruto's crib next to his bed.

 

He settled the babe in the crib after feeding, burping, and changing him, then dressed himself in a pair of pajama pants and collapsed on his bed with a weary whoosh of air from his lungs. He fell asleep to Naruto's gentle breaths, worriedly anticipating what tomorrow would bring.

 

*

 

Notes:

 

1. Naruto is, at this point, unable to do anything at his own. He is a newborn, a baby. Don't expect him to suddenly grow up, or start talking, or even "revert" to a more childish disposition. He is nearly a sixteen-year-old teen, and though his behavior may be affected by the hormones in his body (minimally), he won't suddenly start thinking in simple terms or whine like a toddler. By that time, he'll have the mentality of a hormonally-deprived eighteen-year-old. Big difference.

 

2. Expect more of Minato. Because Naruto is incapacitated (to put it mildly) he'll be the main focus, with input from Naruto here and there, until Naruto is able to take up the reigns. This will give you time to get used to Minato's character, the time line and its differences, any original characters I put in, and it'll also give me time to get this whole project started.

 

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Reviews are very appreciated.

All signed reviews are replied to.

 

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Major brownie points to skepsis66 for all of her wonderful hard work on this chapter.

This story is also at FFN