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This book was automatically created by FLAG on December 30th, 2012, basedon content retrieved from http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5645341/.

The content in this book is copyrighted by esama or their authorised agent(s).All rights are reserved except where explicitly stated otherwise.

This story was first published on January 6th, 2010, and was last updated onDecember 25th, 2012.

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Table of Contents

Summary1. Bloody Ocean2. Wandering Carnival3. Masked Shadow4. Mixed Confessions5. Forbidding Entrance6. Fox Sage7. Water and wind8. Unknown World9. Tricksters and demons10. End of peace11. Dawn of Akatsuki12. Fox and Toad13. Some advice14. Blood on water15. Strange calm16. The rainy city17. Building on rain18. Secrets

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Summary

MOSTLY DISCONTINUED Naruto is ready to die but Itachi and Nagato aren'tsatisfied; he made promises and they make him keep them. Time travel, eventualNaruto x Jiraiya slash, spoilers.

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Bloody Ocean

Fox in the Rain

Bloody ocean

His mind was rippling. Slowly going up and down like waves on a shore, trying toreach higher but eventually withdrawing again, pulled by greedy gravity that neverlet its children go. Rings danced over the waves, rings within rings, at the corners,at the middle, in the edges, fractal patterns that never ended, never really began.But rings had no corners. Just like ocean waves weren't made of thoughts.

He closed his eyes and tried to remember. To think, to reach for knowledge hesomehow felt he had once possessed. A mind. He had once had a mind. And now itwas rushing up and down along the shoreline of his consciousness, trying to reachhim, falling a little short each time. There were bubbles rising from the ocean ofmemories and knowledge, drifting upwards towards the endless red sky, never to beseen again. The ocean was steaming, smoking, bubbling. Boiling to nothingness.Soon… soon his mind would be gone, vaporised to the air.

But he didn't feel panic, sadness, terror or anything at all. His mind was going,going… soon gone, and he didn't really mind. The thought of a thought amused himfor a moment before it too seemed to drift away. He almost, just barely, could recallsomething as a wisp of steam memories brushed along his cheek. Maybe it was thememory of having a cheek. Having a body. A life. A name and a family, of sorts.Memory of a home, of a duty, of a responsibility, maybe.

This was his responsibility. The thought soared over the boiling ocean that wasfading to the blood sky. Yes. Yes! This here was his responsibility. His duty. Selfappointed mission. Ah yes, he had missions. Of course. Shinobi had missions. He hadmissions. Duties… responsibilities. This here, watching the ocean of his mind fadeaway, was his last one.

He breathed in the moist breeze of his mind and remembered love and hate andagony of loneliness. It had been like that so often, hadn't it? But soon it too would begone. Along with everything else. His cheek and body and the memory of havingthem. His Shinobi life and missions and duties and responsibilities, his love and hishate and his loneliness. Soon they'd all be gone.

That was good.

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Smiling faintly, he walked along the shoreline. The ocean seemed red. Maybe itwas the sky colouring it, or maybe the ocean was made of blood. He thought it wasthe latter rather than the former. There was something odd about it, now that hethought of it. It wasn't supposed to be red. Or ocean. There wasn't supposed to besky. Hadn't there been a ceiling there once, and walls, and a cage…? Yes, he couldremember that, just barely. It hadn't been red. Murky greys and charcoal blacks,fading hues of deepest blue. Only glint of red in midst of the shadows. How had itgrown so widely?

Because he had killed it.

Of course, of course. He nodded in sudden realisation. That was right. The thinginside him that had been there since his birth. It was torn apart, splattered along theinsides of his mind. And that was why it had to fade, why it was his duty. The pointin all of this. It made perfect sense. That was why his mind needed to fade. That waswhy he needed to die.

Die? He stopped to contemplate the notion. Right. Die. People died left and right,up and down, all the time. Some he had known, others he had only learned to knowafterwards, others he hadn't even heard of before. Some he had seen, others heardof. Some had been close, others mere acquaintances, lot unknown and un-met andrest had been enemies. Some he had tried to save and failed, some he had foughtalong with and watched die, some he had fought against… some he had killed.Dying, so many did it, had done it, would do it.

His turn now. He nodded, sitting down to the sand only to realise that it was rusticred and disgusting. Clotted and crispy and dried up here and there. Everything wasmade of blood. He laughed. What a morose mindscape his mind had became. Not abad time for such a responsibility to take it away. Not a bad time for it all to fade tonothingness.

Naruto breathed in his memories and lay down on the dried up blood of theKyuubi's victims. He crossed his hands behind his neck and smiling faintly stared upto the violent red sky. It was raining blood.

It was a good time to die.

There were many types of people in the world. There were those who walkedalong the streets. Those who tracked up winding paths in the grass. There werethose who climbed along rocky mountain trails. Those who walked along rapidly

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flowing rivers. Then, somewhere, there were those who walked on the rooftops.Those who ran over the grass without disturbing single blade. There were those whowalked up the mountain's vertical side. Those who crossed over the water's surfacelight as a feather. And finally, there were those who didn't have to.

Somewhere there was always that one person who sat at the streets side, at thegrass, on some rock at the mountain side, on the river bench. Those who werecontent there, without going anywhere, without heading anywhere and withoutdoing anything.

Naruto would've been one of those people had it not been for other people. Thevillagers who walked along the streets, the villains who tracked along the windingpaths in the grass, the random passers by lantern lights, the fishermen at the rivers.And the ninja everywhere. The teacher at the rooftop, the girl in the grass, the boyby the fire, and the man atop the waves. He had wanted to become Hokage - so that people would acknowledge him. He had wanted to become strong - so that he couldprotect his cherished people. He had wanted to fight - to bring his precious peopleback together.

Had there been no one there, Naruto would've sat down at the road side and idlywatched people go by. Itachi was certain that he would've sat there only as long asthe road would've been empty - then he would've picked the first person he saw tofollow and cherish. Nagato was sure he would've sat there until something badwould've happened - he would've only gotten up to stop it.

Naruto didn't really care either way. He had been fine the way he had been and hewas fine dying the way he was going to die. He didn't care what he had been insome symbolic, metaphorical level. He had been fine. No regrets. But of course atthat point most of the reasons were fading to red, most of the motivations hadalready vaporised to the blood sky, but he didn't mind. There was a reason. That wasgood enough for him.

It wasn't good enough for Itachi. It wasn't good enough for Nagato. They had diedbelieving. They had inhaled and exhaled their last breaths in hope. They had givenup, knowing he'd carry on their legacy. Save Sasuke. Save the world. Change it.Change everything.

Naruto closed his eyes against the wisps of memories. Because he already was. Hewas. By dying here and letting what remained of the Kyuubi to fade, he would makesure the monster of Madara's design would never be completed. It wouldn't rise. Itwouldn't manipulate anyone. Not Sasuke. Not the world. "I can't change anything.All I can do is stop it from getting worse. So stop it."

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But they had had hope. First time in years, in long, long years filled with miseryand pain and guilt so overwhelming that they had designed their very own deaths,they had hope. And it had been as painful as it had been beautiful and it had beenbecause of him. Naruto had made them, murderers, assassins, monsters, gods oftheir own design, feel it. Feel hope. And this was not what they had hoped for. Hewas disappointing them. It had supposed to be better. Brighter. Beautiful.Magnificent. Happy. This wasn't.

Naruto tuned them out and idly tried to remember why he was dying here andnow. And like this. Had there been a battle, had he been captured, was Madarasomewhere, looming over his body… was Sasuke? Had he himself killed the Kyuubiinside him, blown the fox apart so violently that it had dyed his insides with red?How had he known how to do that? Had it been a plan? Whose? His? Someoneelse's? The Kyuubi's?

He closed his eyes and let the steam whisk the thoughts away. Better not towonder. It would serve no purpose. Soon it would be over. He'd be gone. Everythingwould be gone.

But Itachi and Nagato weren't satisfied.

Blood splattered and ocean waved restlessly left and right. Spinning woodenwheels crossed over the red surface as if it was nothing but a puddle in a street'sside. The sound of the waves was cut by the sound of the wild splashing andconfused Naruto looked up from the fading wisp of his mind. Something was comingcloser, over the ocean of his mind. Or maybe the Kyuubi's mind. Or maybe it waschakra. And maybe it didn't matter what it was. Something was coming.

It wasn't supposed to. He frowned, pushing himself up from the drying blood oflong dead people and looked ahead. He could almost see, but he couldn't rememberwhat it was. It was familiar, but he couldn't remember what it was made of. Thatpart of his mind was gone. The thing coming closer was shaped somehow, but hecouldn't recall the name of the shape. It was moving. Fast. Steady. Almost like beingpulled. But nothing was pulling it. He had odd feeling that it was meant to be moved.It was a thing for moving.

"A carriage," voice spoke behind him and he looked up to see fallen enemieslooking down on him.

"For?" he asked lying down again, not really interested now that the question of

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what it is had been answered. Maybe he should've been interested. Maybe he was.But he didn't feel like it. It was oddly blissful sensation.

"For you."

One of them - they were so similar in so many ways, in appearance and inmemories, that it was hard to tell them apart - reached to pull him up. Naruto didn'tbother fighting against the man - little point in that. "For me?" he instead asked, andtried to figure out what was the meaning behind that. Carriage, he recalled dazedly,was a transport. Transport for him? "Why?" he asked. "Shouldn't I stay here? I'msupposed to fade away."

"No," one of the two said. Enemies. Friends. Brothers. Histories. Sad, sadmemories. "Not like this."

Not like this. He made it sound like there was something wrong with this. Narutodidn't think so. But he could hardly think at all, so it could be that the man wasright. They were pushing him towards the carriage now, as it stood at the edge ofthe liquid blood, waiting for him, door open for him. "Where will it take me?" heasked as he was helped to climb the single wooden step up to sit inside. Wooden. Hecould remember wood. It came from trees. He had liked trees. Once upon a time.

"Back," the enemies, friends, brothers, sad memories, powers, said. They gave hima look, like wanting to say or do something, make him say or do something. It madeno sense. He could feel it all inside his head. They were inside his head, they allwere. Even the carriage. He could sense it. Not like this, they thought. You promised. You were supposed to change it.

Change what? He thought back.

Everything, they answered and the carriage door closed between him and them.'Everything' was a big concept, he tried to call back, but the carriage was alreadymoving, taking him a way, across the blood ocean, across the blood sky, across thebloody mind. Across everything and into nothing.

Naruto was remembering more. The carriage's odd, soft rattle around himreminded him of something. Of a room and a bed and ceiling which had often rangwith hollow echoes of footsteps coming from above. His cheap apartment. Thewooden bench and walls of the carriage reminded him of Hidden Leaf, of hisfavourite ramen stand, of the Uchiha Estate, the few times he had visited the

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Hyuuga clan grounds. So much wood. Of course, it had been brought down once. ByNagato. He had been there. Lot of people had died. And been revived.

He closed his eyes, feeling tired and lifeless, robbed of his only chance of resting.But perhaps Itachi and Nagato were right in their own way. He still couldn'tremember how he was dying or why - or how come the Kyuubi was nothing butocean and sky and shoreline of blood instead of the vicious fox it had been. Hecouldn't remember what had happened - only that there had been a reason and hisdying like this, that, had been only way to stop… something. Demon extraction?Maybe that was it.

It had been a very… dutiful death. Die before anyone can use you. But it wasn'texactly very rewarding. He hadn't kept his promises. And he had made so many ofthem too. Become Hokage, stop Sasuke, bring peace, live… he hadn't and he hadn'tand he hadn't. How many other promises had he broken? He had promised to go outfor some ramen to someone. Broken. He had promised to be there for someone someday. Broken. He had promised to stay strong and proud. Broken. He had promised tohelp someone. Broken. He had promised. Broken.

Live without regrets. Do things you will never ever regret. Because it was hisNindo? Yes. But he regretted now. Damn Itachi and Nagato. He had been fine dyingthe way he had. Why had they made him remember again?

"I regret," he whispered. He regretted Haku's and Zabuza's death; there should'vebeen something he could've done. He regretted the Third Hokage's death; maybe ifhe had been stronger he could've defeat Orochimaru in the forest. He regrettedSasuke's betrayal, if he had been a better friend it would've never needed to happen.He regretted not being able to bring him back for Sakura. He regretted for thatwhole mission to retrieve him, so many had gotten so badly hurt.

"I regret." He regretted going away for so many years; he might've grownstronger but he grew apart. He regretted not being there to see Hinata grow strongand proud; it would've been sight worthy of seeing. He regretted not being there forSakura; she had grown so cold and odd in his absence, like another person nomatter how she had tried to hide it. He regretted never visiting Hidden Sand duringthe three years; he would've liked to congratulate Gaara personally. He regrettednot learning as much as he should've from Jiraiya; there had been so much to learnbut he had only scratched the surface of that tutelage.

"I regret." The fights, the promises, the people missed, the fights fought won andlost, the beliefs met and crushed and changed and the one that had remained alwaysstrong.

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