aI do not own the rights to "Naruto", nor any of the persons, places, or concepts within. This fan fiction is a non-profit tribute to the series, as well as a critique on it's existing plotline. Therefore, if requested by the owners and distributors of the "Naruto" anime or manga, I will discontinue and remove this story immediately.

Chapter I:

Hinata frowned, her timid eyes, rather than glancing down at her feet, stared out into the distance of the forest. She stood atop the academy building, trying to get the best view of the Fire Country's deep valley. Somehwere, she considered, there was the boy she could not get out of her head. He would be gone for three years, according to the rumors spread by Sakura. She triggered her Byakugan, squinting as she peered over every detail of the main trail leading to the west of the village perimeter. There were minor footprints, clearly belonging to Jiraiya, and the stride of the prints beside those could easily have belonged to Uzumaki. She paled, wondering if this was the last she would see of the boy for three years, and if her actions came off the wrong way.

Those thoughts were quickly wiped clean from her mind as she returned to the footprints, and stared out to the maximum range of her eyes, before the details became too fuzzy. She had noticed this problem earlier during the Chuunin Exams, but didn't choose to mention anything to her father. Small things were losing clarity at distance, and while it was an insignificantly small change at first, the problem had grown with her continuous training. Each time she activated her bloodline limit, the clarity of her vision seemed worse than before.

While she managed to sneak an eye exam chart into her room without the knowledge of either main or branch families, Hinata shuddered at the possibility her father, Hanabi, or even Neji knew of her worsening condition. She could manage to make out the third or fourth smallest lines of characters at the designated six meter distance, but beyond that was a hopeless smear of ink. Neither black or white, those lines appeared to be a gray haze of watercolors on the rough parchment.

She would talk to Kurenai-sensei about it later, Hyuuga decided. She could not allow the safety of her teammates or the success of the mission to be compromised for her own cowardice. The girl's head snapped upward in defiance. It wasn't her fault, after all. She was training just as Neji was, trying to make up for so much lost ground during the early years of her time in the academy. But it was another blow to the family honor. She, the firstborn of the main household, the heiress to the greatest surviving bloodline in the village, was not only a failure in combatives, but a failure in genetics. Myopia, if it became serious enough, could even cripple her chance at extending to the chuunin rank.

But he would understand, Hinata thought, letting a slight blush cross her cheeks. He would never judge her for her physical condition, but rather what he knew she was capable of. As the memories of the battle against Neji, often a recurring nightmare, plagued her mind, she thought back to the one warm feeling that settled the hairs on the back of her neck. It was that blonde genin, the loudmouth in the orange jumpsuit shouting to her, telling her not to give in. Hinata folded her arms, and leaned out over the safety rail of the academy roof, trying to clear the blurry image of the trail, wondering where her savior was this very moment.

Not five kilometers out of the village on their three year training regimen, and things had gone horribly wrong. The Jinchuuriki limped along the desert trail to the Hidden Sand Village, gripping his crippled right arm. Sweat coated his forehead protector, hidden underneath the scavenged tattered cloak, the one that came from the man Jiraiya defeated first. But that led back to thoughts of the fallen Saanin, and how disgracefully the man's body was butchered before him. It sickened him further how he could do nothing but run, ordered by his dying, impaled sensei to retreat.

The enemies had used cowards' weapons, mostly crossbows armed with explosive tags. They were missing nin, apparently adept at genjutsu to surpass the Saanin's detection abilities. This infuriated the boy even more, realizing how far he was from reaching the level of a competent shinobi. His skills, even with the training Jiraiya would have taught him, relied too heavily on his stamina. For the first time in his life, Naruto stopped considering rushing in as the best tactic.

He heard footsteps coming from behind, and quickened his pace. The men were a good two hundred meters away, but still following him, the shifting sand echoing in the canyon walls of the desert. He tried to work up to a jog, but his legs grew stiff, body collapsing to the ground. The air felt thick, the heat of the late afternoon cooking it, scorching his throat. As the boy rolled onto his bad arm, aggravating the deep gash with sand, he started to whimper. Today, the boy thought, he was going to die.

•••••••••••••

It was a horrible dream, Hinata thought as she flung herself to an upright position, sitting on her bed in the Hyuuga compound. Her face and body soaked in sweat, the cold night air did nothing to cool her as she staggered to her feet. The nightmare had taken much out of her, Hanabi complaining later that morning how her sister tossed and turned, making unusual muffled cries.

The eldest of the Hyuuga main branch wiped her forehead, and rolled onto her side. "Naruto..." she whimpered, letting out a soft cry. Why did she have to fail? She had let her secret drag on for far too long, and now, it would be another three years, if ever, before she could tell him what she felt. The girl clenched her fists, and pulling her pillow down over her head, muffled her raspy sobs.

•••••••••••••

Naruto's head swung backwards, then rolled slowly forward to his chest. The sudden jolt startled him awake, finding his body dragged by his arms through the sand. The wounded shoulder screamed, the gritty soil mashed into the vertical gash. Uzumaki let out a muffled grunt, coughing up small bits of sand, before a blow to the head forced him once again to unconsciousness.

Just before his eyes closed, he looked into the flat expanse of desert, the morning sun already baking the ground beneath him. He thought he saw a female silhouette with penetrating silver eyes stare at him from the distance. There was something so familiar about her, but he could not recognize what importance the girl had, and why he suddenly felt at ease.

•••••••••••••

It had been six months, Tsunade thought, and no word had come from Jiraiya. It was possible he had chosen to operate in secret, but highly unlikely. He would have sent word somehow to let her know he and Naruto were still alive and safe. No, the Hokage thought, something was horribly wrong. It was that very morning, gathering the ANBU, she ordered two squads to search for her fellow Saanin. "It is imperative," she spoke firmly, "we find Uzumaki Naruto at once."

The ANBU looked at each other through their masks, confused. They did not believe one genin constituted such a high profile mission. "Hokage-sama," one began, "I don't understand the importance of the genin."

The blonde woman glared, but stopped to think of the situation. No one besides those directly involved with the boy knew of the mission, or the disturbing reconnaissance gathered within the last year. "He is of the highest priority," she answered. "It is believed a group of missing nin intent on destroying the village will try to capture any of our shinobi beyond the gates, and use them to infiltrate, if not sabotage our border patrols."

It was a lie, of course, but it would serve to protect the sensitivity of the mission. At least if captured, the ANBU would not be able to reveal the nature of Naruto's importance. It had been ensured through medical techniques as well as memory manipulation that all ANBU were deprived of specialized knowledge deemed a risk to their village's security. The truth could get them, Naruto, and the entire village killed, but a lie would at least keep the village safe. "Begin searching the trails to the North," she ordered. "Jiraiya was last reported heading in the direction of Wind Country."

But those squads had returned not hours later, with the corpse of a badly decayed Jiraiya draped in a body bag.

•••••••••••••

The Jinchuuriki screamed again, the steel-reinforced boot driving into his right shoulder a second time. The wound had not healed, not after the months of torture. Or had it been years? Naruto could not remember anymore. The pain had convinced him to stop thinking about the passage of time. "Well?" the old man's voice barked again. "Are you going to talk today?"

The dark tunnel buried deep underground smelled of mold and rotting flesh. Uzumaki focused on those scents, the only sensations which offered the least offense, as his naked body drooped forward. He could not fall into the soft, moist soil, however, as the shackles linked to his wrists jerked him to a stop. All he wanted was to fall into that earth, and sleep his death away. It would be far more easy to tell them what they wanted to know, but the boy literally knew nothing about the situation. Again, the rough metal of the boot's plating drove into his shoulder, causing another blood-curdling scream.

They had beaten, broken, and burned practically every part of his body besides the right shoulder. That they had chosen to let linger. Disinfectants were held out in front of him, promised only if he would divulge the information they wanted to know. If he refused, the wound was reopened, the freshly flowing blood keeping the wound clean. The point was simply to break down the genin's resistance, after all, not to kill him. But the old man started to have second thoughts, and a prompt disposal to ensure Naruto wouldn't reveal their identity seemed the only option left available. No, the man considered, he would try just one more thing.

The trainee hiding in the corner now stepped forward, holding a small bag of crushed plant spores out to the old man. As the lead interrogator walked up to the boy, he blew a portion of the spores over the genin's face. The scent was a swift change for the decaying earthen structure, causing Naruto to inhale the hallucinogen deeply.

"You will find this quite interesting," the old man spoke softly, leaning forward. Uzumaki snarled, then paused, his head starting to throb. Quickly, a fever built up, his body roasting itself from the inside out. "Most hallucinogens of this plant family are excellent tranquilizers, but this one is the one exception to that rule." He gave the boy a moment to absorb what he said, already noting the slurred grunts and unsteady, rolling nods from his victim. "It causes inflammation of the nervous system, and intensifies the sensations of pain. The hallucinations, I hear, are quite traumatic."

Naruto stared into the darkness, and noticed the pitch black surroundings grow to a light gray, then brilliant white. He tried to blink, but he was no longer seeing what came through his eyes. The side effects of the visual cortex's damage were taking effect, just as his ears started to erode. The high pitched whine turned to a retching screech. Blindness, he was told, was always an existence in the nothingness of a black void. He never imagined a white, screaming mist, on the other hand, could be so terrifying.

"Don't dare try to resist," the old man snarled from the confines of the shadows. "We have reinforced the seals to your demon, Jinchuuriki. We have also sealed your chakra points. Your ninjutsu techniques are useless." The man leaned in closer, whispering, watching as every breath he took caused a stabbing pain to shoot through his victim's ears. "Next comes the mouth, nose, and throat, every breath you take cutting into your lungs like a knife. Your sense of touch will be last, but I promise, after six hours thinking your bones are melting under your skin, you will perceive time in a whole new way."

"You have less than a minute to tell us everything you know," the trainee began, "before the pain becomes too unbearable for you to be any use to us."

"I ...told you, I don't know ANYTHING!" Naruto growled, letting out a few sickly coughs. The stale air and malnutrition was finally getting to him, his nose and mouth burning from the harmless atmosphere. He tried to focus on something else, anything to ignore the senses he could not shut out. Thoughts of what he had left behind plagued his thoughts, things, places, and people he would never see again. Home was now this cramped tunnel. But his mind further detoured along these thoughts, and to one person in particular.

"I'll ask one more time," the man grumbled. "What is your connection with the Konoha ANBU movements to the south?"

"H-Hi..." Uzumaki coughed hoarsely, leaning forward, letting the chains hold his weight. "Hin-" he tried to speak as his vocal chords turned to rough, rusted steel. The muscles in his neck seized, head jerking forward before slumping down into his chest. His time had expired, he realized, as his fingers started to twitch uncontrollably. In an instant, the tendons under his forearms pulled taunt like steel piano wire on the verge of snapping. "Hina-!" he managed to partly squeal as his tendons tore, rolling back like a flapping window shade under his skin. The bundled fibers scratched along his bones, making him lurch forward, his arms jerking on the chains.

"What was that?" the old man leaned in closer, while the larger, stocky interrogator gripped the boy's shoulder, forcing the gash to reopen for the thirty-second time in seven months. The agony, while only a few moments before would have simply been a minor addition to the stiff, sagging joints, was now a spear which punched through one side of his body to the other. His organs seemed to pool down at his knees when the hallucinations began.

The genin could not understand how he did not see it before. Perhaps, in this place of darkness, this isolation from light, and the final blows to his mind, he finally found something he could focus on to bring a shred of the pleasures of Konoha back to him. There were his friends, of course, and she counted as one of them. But, as he considered the situation during the few hours between interrogations, he started noticing the slight hints she had given. It sickened him at this moment, after severe cranial trauma, the shattered fingers, forearms, elbows, and toes which were crushed under the heavy steel mallet how he just now discovered what he had missed over the months of training. As he strained his vision, he thought he could see her emerge from the bright, licking flames of the white fire.

"Hina...ta?" Naruto squeaked, before his head slumped forward, the coma protecting his sanity from shattering.

•••••••••••••

The disqualified Hyuuga heiress sobbed in the quiet of the Konoha night, standing before the small, insignificant marker. There was no body, but he had to have died. There was no possibility a captured shinobi would be spared from an enemy which had murdered one of the Saanin. She took a few steps forward, and kneeled beside the small granite stone. She touched the top of the rough surface, tracing her fingertips over it in the way she had wished to touch the blonde genin.

"If your father finds you," a cold voice boomed from the surrounding night, "he would punish you for disgracing the main family." Hinata refused to make eye contact with her cousin. Neji folded his arms, and glared down at the girl clad in the black kimono. It had been a week since the impromptu, disgraceful funeral. Six months since the boy first left, and only within the last week the announcement was made. While there were many of his own age which mourned the loss appropriately, the majority of villagers wore bright colors, interrupted the ceremony with gossip, and not left so much as one flower behind for the shinobi.

That was why she had chosen to mourn for the ungrateful, approaching the forsaken monument in the middle of night. She had did everything she could to hide her intentions from her father, her sister, and the branch family. However, her interest in the genin were not missed by the true Hyuuga genius. "He has fallen, and there is nothing you can do about it," Neji continued. The girl refused to stand from her kneeled position, and as such, her cousin joined her in the damp grass which coated the hollowed ground.

Hinata was surprised to find her cousin in black formal robes, setting an engraved kunai, a ceremonial piece, next to the monument. "Neji-san?" she squeaked, the tears pausing for a moment. Her cousin simply glared at the grave, a gut-wrenching hate building inside. He could understand how she felt, but she would never understand what he thought of the situation. One of the few who defeated him in combat, one who promised to fight for the rights of the branch family, one who chose to defy destiny was now gone. It was as if fate itself was laughing, mocking the prodigy from the shadows of night. He could not tolerate it.

"It is time to return to the compound," he said calmly. Hinata stood hesitatntly, not wanting to leave. As Neji turned his back to her, he knew she would not leave without some rationale she was not truly leaving the deceased behind. She could not abandon her feelings so easily, and to do so would be equivalent to betrayal: a thought most shinobi were bred to abhor. "Just because others will not understand, it does not mean you cannot speak to him in daylight with joy."

Hinata sighed, and walked beside her cousin, both knowing she would return again tomorrow. It was then he noticed the odd facial tick. For the first month he detected it, Neji guessed it was the girl's latest tell, her body language so easily read compared to her classmates from the academy. Over the next two or three months, however, he had a chance to observe when the tell really occurred: in front of scrolls, street signs, and during her taijutsu lessons involving long-range targets. He had researched the main family, and the ancestry of his aunt. Only had his uncle known the family history, the photos revealing men and women, their faces clad in distracting wire frames. "You can't hide it forever," Neji sighed.

"W...what?" Hinata squeaked, tilting her head up gently. Again, the left eye gave it's tell, the muscle spasm below the eyelids indicating her fatigue. The girl instinctively enveloped her eyes with her open right hand, rubbing the lids with her fingers and thumb contracting towards the bridge of her nose. "I-if you mean Naruto-kun, I-"

"A blind shinobi is useless on the battlefield, but even if you can correct your vision to meet the requirements for chuunin status, Uncle will not pass on the control of the clan to someone who cannot fully tap into the Byakugan." Neji's analysis was cold and precise as ever, leaving little room for emotional support. The former heiress shrunk a couple centimeters in stature, leaning forward, glancing down at her feet, studying the details she could only make out directly below her. "How far can you see?"

"I-it started a few months ago, when I tried to learn the more advanced-"

"I didn't ask for a medical history!" her cousin barked, causing her to shrink further. He glared at her. "How far can you see?" He let out a muffled grunt when the girl froze, unable to respond. He reached into the pouch tucked away under his dress robes, revealing a scarred, blunted kunai. "See this?" he snapped, holding the instrument close to the girl's face.

As Hinata started to nod, Neji coiled his arm back, and hurled the blade skyward. She couldn't tell the direction it landed by sound, as the clang of steel on the hard concrete walls of the nearby barracks echoed in the barren inner perimeter just beyond the graveyard. Sound was useless, so she had to try by sight and sight alone. She formed the seals, but a firm clasp of her hands restrained her. "No!" Neji barked again. "It's close enough you won't need that. Now, where is it?"

"I-I can't-!" she started.

Neji shook her by the left shoulder, leaving a light impression of his fingers into her bicep. "Quit making excuses and do it! Where is it?" Hinata lowered her head, and pointed, her right index finger forming a straight line at least thirty degrees off of where the blade landed. Neji sighed. "That is only twenty meters away, and you can't see it." The cousin rubbed his forehead protector, inconspicuously scratching at the seal which bound him to the weaker of the family. "The only thing you're good for now is walking into an ambush, or getting picked off while on point." The cousin scowled. "Do you really think you will do your team any good dead?"

"But, if I try to see a doctor, or get glasses, I'll-" she stammered.

"Uncle will punish you, yes," Neji grumbled. "But a lifetime of his scorn is better than dying from a lie." Neji turned his back to the girl, and stared into the darkening sky. "If you have no missions tomorrow, Ten Ten and I will take you to the optometrist."

"Neji-san?" she squeaked. Why was he being so kind to her? What was this change, and why had she not noticed it before?

"I'm only fulfilling my duty as a member of the branch family, making sure the main branch does not grow soft," he answered. "Ten Ten knows a great deal regarding field equipment, and can help you make a proper selection of combat-rated frames."

"And... why are you-?" she started, before the cousin interrupted her.

"Who else with extensive knowledge of the Byakugan would bother investing in your only saving grace?" Hinata could not determine if she hated her cousin, or loved him. He was insulting her abilities, but was going out of his way to ensure she could stand on her own, and uphold the responsibilities she had sworn to perform as a shinobi of the Hidden Leaf Village. In a way, he was her guardian, ensuring she would grow up to make something of herself.

Her head tilted upward to the sky, the blurred, undefined stars did not seem so disappointing. Perhaps, she thought, she would see them as early as tomorrow.

•••••••••••••

"Ah, he's not dead!" the old man cheered in sarcastic delight. The large bodyguard stomped towards Uzumaki, taking a hold of the boy's hair, tearing out a tuft as he dragged the genin to a rotting, stained canvas sack. Naruto groaned, his body frigidly cold as the hallucinogen wore off two days later. His arms still burned, the bulges of spongy tissue under his skin, which he later learned were the muscle fibers, scraped against his bones as he tried to crawl to his knees. However, before he could regain his footing, the kunai came out, slashing at the boy's head. Locks of hair were torn from his scalp, leaving bald patches as the boy slumped under the pull of gravity.

"W-why?" Naruto croaked, his eyes opening slowly.

"It makes cleaning up the mess so much easier if there's no hair," the towering giant with the kunai boomed. "If you struggle, I might just cut out your brain prematurely." Somehow, Naruto did not react to the thought of an improvised lobotomy, the gutting, or cannibalizing of his organs for the medical nin of this unknown hidden village. What was said next, however, did cause a reaction. "And when we find this girl, this Hinata you kept talking about... well, there are very kinky ways to interrogate a kunoichi with her dismembered boyfriend-"

Uzumaki Naruto didn't remember when he grabbed the kunai, or how he could manage to conceal it. All he remembered was the rusted implement lying by the canvas sack. But that didn't matter. As his mind snapped wide awake at the mention of things done to the Hyuuga girl, he began to process the situation in a new light. The man was big but slow, and as he realized his left arm was still good, Naruto let out a feral grin. The fuse was lit, the blade pressed against his left side, keeping it from sight. "What's the matter?" the man grumbled, waiting for a response. His vision was blurry, head throbbing, but that did not matter. There was no emotional connection to the physical pain anymore. Six months of constant torture would do that to a man. In effect, he was numb to anything they could do to him.

The old man was right, Naruto thought. Since the drugging, he was perceiving things in a whole new way. The speed at which he delivered the fatal blow without so much as a facial twitch was proof enough of that.

It was a foolish mistake, the bodyguard letting his guard down, regardless of the condition of the prisoner. Perhaps, if the left and right hemispheres of his brain were not separated by the kunai shoved into his skull, the shinobi who toppled back could have reflected on that thought. Naruto fell backwards to the soft earth, taking the kunai from the large, dead man's hand. It was a simple task, he discovered, to rise up to his feet at the mention of Hinata's potential torture. If there was anything he would do, he would do it willingly to ensure her above all others would never have to experience this place.

As the dark corridors of the tunnel soaked in the rich, red blood of the trainee sinking down into the mud beside his feet, Naruto held his face rigidly still. There was still anger, but there was another way to express it now. This, he thought, was how a true shinobi behaved. Their hate was disguised or revealed by the method with which they completed the mission. That was the difference between Sausuke, Orochimaru, and those ninja who prevailed in Konoha. The ones who remained learned control, and carried out their acts with a ruthless efficiency. It was not about looking cool, not like Sausuke had tried to do. It was about professionalism.

"How are you doing this?" the old man barked, reaching for the crossbow in the corner. As Naruto's eyes had a chance during unconsciousness to adjust to the dark, he could tell the tip was armed with an explosive tag. The Jinchuuriki hesitated for a split second, trying to assess the situation. If he telegraphed his intentions, there would not be enough time to prevent his enemy from discharging the bolt, killing them both.

Fortunately for him, the old man had just recently entered from the trap door some two hundred meters or more away, meaning he could have been exposed to daylight. The assumption was proven correct as the man stumbled, waving the crossbow left and right, trying to listen for the boy.

Naruto, during the months in captivity, on the other hand, learned to remain perfectly silent. It first started out as a simple way to avoid the enemy knowing how badly they had hurt him. Later, as the constant abuse became routine, he simply learned to ignore most of what they had done to him. For the majority of the constant cycle of breaking bone, healing, then breaking them again, it was another annoyance he adapted to, just as the first outing into the Wind Country taught him to ignore the itching sensation across his skin from insects and the harsh winds.

"Where are you?" the man cried, looking back and forth to each side of the room, still blinded from the sun's glare outside. Uzumaki took slow, deliberate steps, crouching on the ground. He moved barely a meter every minute, but that gave him just enough time to reach the reinforced wall of the tunnel. His chakra points were sealed, but that could be easily overcome, he considered, as he drove the first kunai into the bare spot of the tunnel wall. The soil was just sturdy enough to support his weight as he rose up with his left arm, crawling towards the wooden rafters.

The kunai made an excellent perch to glare down and observe his prey, who had foolishly moved closer to his comrades. While he kept his back to the wall, holding the weapon outstretched, he was moving further away from the door to the interrogation room. As the old man leaned forward over his comrades' bodies, he could smell the boy was still there, though he could not see him. "Wherever you are," he growled, "I could kill us both with one shot!"

As the old man rounded the perimeter, it all made sense to the genin. These were not typical shinobi, he considered. They were genjutsu specialists, but that was all. Every tactic they used, every move they made, was a poor attempt to mimic techniques he had already been taught as an academy student. These were not ninja, but simple guerrillas copying what they had seen. As the old man approached his position, Naruto crouched on the kunai foothold, locking his ankles together as he dropped towards the floor.

The old man felt a hand clamp down against his mouth, jerking him back as a blade slammed into the back of his neck. As he fell away, his futile attempts at breathing leaking through the hole in his spinal column, Uzumaki hung inverted by his ankles from the tunnel wall, snarling.

Those survivors of the tunnel ran, hearing the muffled cries of their comrades, then silence. The three who made it to the east escape route bolted for the stolen war horses, frantically hitching a battered wagon to four of the animals. They were only thieves, doing their best to take the stolen goods. Had they been true shinobi, they would have known better, and simply ran. The smallest of the three, loading the last of the gold aboard, suddenly slumped forward, face buried in the wooden crate. In the last few moments of his life, the thief tried reaching towards the crossbow bolt buried in his back, before the explosive tag burned down to the critical seal.

The war horses galloped madly from the burning fragments of the wagon, debris falling back from their parabolic trajectories. As three disappeared from sight, the lead horse limped away, turning back to stare at the mad figure which stumbled towards the flaming wreckage. His right arm still useless, Naruto Uzumaki let the single crossbow tumble to the ground, loose from his grasp. Another crossbow, sat in the debris, the coarse, abused wood scorched by the flames.

As the boy walked up to it, he reached into the fire, retrieving the smoldering instrument without so much as a wince. With a cold glare, he locked eyes with the remaining horse, and stumbled towards the east.

•••••••••••••

The heavy frames were made of durable plastic, coated in an olive drab green, while a nylon cord hooked behind the ears to prevent them being lost. The yellow coated optics were a scratch-resistant, high impact material, perfect for the wear and tear of the job. It came with a small pouch containing replacement screws, a compact screwdriver, and a swatch of scratch-preventative cloth for quick cleaning in the field. All in all, it was perfect for any mission Hinata could undertake. Neji nodded approvingly, after noticing none of the features limited the Byakugan.

Hinata scowled at herself in the mirror.

"She looks... interesting," Ten Ten tried to phrase politely, a nervous smile twitching across her face. The demoted heiress turned, and glared. "Okay, okay!" the brunette apologized, waving her hand. "We'll find something else!"

"What do you mean something else?" Neji groaned. "We've been here for three hours, and look at this!" He gripped his cousin's head firmly in both hands, repositioning her for inspection. Hinata started to sweat nervously. "This is ideal for close quarters combat! She cannot possibly find anything better-"

The Hyuuga genius felt a rap to the side of his head, the brunette trying out a new pair of studded steel gloves to replace her former leather pieces. Neji retracted his hands, and caressed his right temple gently. "Ne-ji!" Ten Ten whined like a child. "This is ridiculous! A kunoichi is supposed to be deadly and elegant! This will not do!"

"Will you two just hurry up?" he snarled. "We've wasted the entire day. If Gai-sensei finds out, we'll-"

"Fine, fine!" Ten Ten sighed. Slowly, she knelt by Hinata, still frozen in the examiner's chair. "Hinata, what do you think?" In her hands, a slender wire frame caressed two small, oval lenses. Resting them on her ears and nose, HInata grinned in the mirror. The four-eyed comment did not apply at all, as the frames helped enhance the feminine curves of her face. She blushed, wondering what Naruto would think-

She froze, her eyes shifting down to her feet. "Hinata?" Ten Ten asked. Neji shook his head, picking up the girl's latest tell. Again, her face twitched just below the left eye, and again the choking sigh could be heard only by his ear. He knew she was thinking of him. "I think they look good on you!" the brunette exclaimed. The Hyuuga girl smiled softly, blinking rapidly to control the tears. "What do you think?"

"What... do I think?" the feminine Hyuuga stuttered. "Um.. well, I..." She blushed as she looked at herself in the mirror. However, these would be too fragile, and completely unsuitable for a mission. She could already see Neji grimace, rubbing at his face in irritation. Still, she needed to make some kind of decision regarding a pair of glasses. Neji was right. They had wasted a lot of time with both of the Team Ten genin trying to push her towards one style or another. She had yet to exercise her own free will.

Suddenly, an odd memory surfaced in her mind. It was the first day at the academy, and following the lead of the other kunoichis, she made her way to the growing mass tailing the Uchiha survivor. It was then, as the other boys grew annoyed, she noticed an odd figure in orange jitter in his seat, excited for the first lesson. Atop the blonde's head, obviously mimicking the forehead protector they had yet to earn, were a pair of blue-framed-

"Goggles," Hinata blurted out suddenly.

"What?" Ten Ten exclaimed, blinking.

The girl blushed for a moment, and jaabbed her two index fingers together, thinking back to her hero. "Doctor... umm... would you have any prescription...goggles?"

The balding old man let out an exhaustive groan as his tired bones creaked, raising him up to his shrunken stature. "It's about time you let my patient make the decisions," he commented, walking towards the small collection of frames displayed on the opposite wall of the diagnostic equipment. "As a matter of fact, Wind Country's shinobi have just dropped the visual acuity standards now that their optometrists have perfected prescription goggles." He let out a grin. "It just so happens, I have one pair in stock..."

Hinata took the forest green goggles in her hand, a darker gold coating protecting the scratch resistant polycarbonate optics. Placing them on her head, first on her eyes, she noticed the advantage to the coated lenses. Her weakening eyes could easily detect edges, and vastly improved her depth perception. The side vents prevented fogging, while the adjustable elastic strap, after being tucked under her hair, was comfortable as well as inconspicuous. As one final test, she slid the goggles up to her forehead, her eyes beginning to water when she took on the spitting image of her hero.

"Is everything alright?" the doctor asked, taking the goggles back from his patient. "Your eyes are tearing up."

"No, everything is fine," Hinata smiled faintly. "These are perfect." Looking over her shoulder, the blurry image of Neji nodded in approval. Ten Ten hesitated for a moment, but agreed in the end. "Can I have two pair? The goggles for missions, and these when I'm off-duty?" She held up the slender frames Ten Ten had chosen.

"We are having a special," the optometrist grinned. "I"ve been trying to sell this damn pair of goggles for months, and no one's shown any interest in them, not even that jounin, Kakashi." The Hyuugas froze, remembering the Copy Ninja's skill. "The way that man abuses that transplanted Sharingan eye, he'll be stumbling around like a drunk in the dark in no time." He waited for the genin to physically relax. "Anyway, as you are willing to buy these, I'll mark the price down for you."

Neji let out an audible sigh, which was quickly replaced by a grunt when Ten Ten drove her elbow into his gut.

"Could they be ready by tonight?" Hinata asked, blushing as she looked down at her feet.

"Tonight?" the optometrist asked. "Why tonight?"

"I want to see the stars again..." she answered.

The old man smiled. "Absolutely..."

•••••••••••••

Winter was not coming, not even on the verge of approaching, the former genin thought. It was here. The blonde studied the thick snow drifts which blocked the trail, the main trade route which linked Earth Country to Wind Country along the foothills above the village in the distance. The warmblooded bay hated the snow, the scars both stiff and sore in the freezing air. Both rider and mount shifted uncomfortably to ease their arguing joints, their breaths visible as smoky vapors. The heavy wool blanket Uzumaki sat on insulated both him and the warhorse, adding a minimal comfort to their miserable journey which simply dragged on seemingly forever.

The villagers shook when they saw the cloaked figure approach, the horse hissing out into the air. His right arm, while in a crude bamboo splint, was still able to wield the heavy crossbow, identical to the other which hung from his frozen left hand. The bolts rattled with every step of the horse in their quiver, while the small canvas pouch of coins jingled like sleigh bells. The rider dismounted at the warlord's home, dropping off the frail passenger.

"Father!" the raven-haired girl cried, throwing off the canvas rags that served as her cloak. She leapt into the old man's outstretched arms, his lean, scarred muscles tensing as his youngest daughter was once again home. "Father!" she cried again, her tears freezing only seconds after they left her eyes.

The lord reached for the tiny sack of coins, throwing them to the rider. "I thought you hated mercenaries," Naruto scowled, taking the pouch without hesitation. He needed the money desperately, as both he and the horse needed constant feeding to keep up their calories. "What's with the sudden change of heart?"

"I can no longer afford to put principles above family," the lord answered, his daughter looking back at the cold blue eyes of the cloaked rider. "Just take it, and go. I'm dropping all charges against you, but never come here again!" Naruto nodded angrily, coaxing the bay about, now backtracking towards Wind Country. "Your home is not far, Mercenary," the lord added, causing Uzumaki to stop. "Just go back, grow fat, raise some children, and forget this despicable profession."

"For a missing nin," Naruto spoke, riding to the east, "home is always far."

•••••••••••••

The snow came from the west, the storm sounding the changing of the seasons. The light, powdery substance coated the village streets, the trees, and lit Konoha with the fading reflection of the sun. Hinata looked out the window of the compound, only to see a blurry white mass clumped on the ground. It was not until she gripped the elegant frames, and placed them on her head that the world focused into discrete objects. The girl let out a soft smile, pulling the soft, green blanket tighter around her. The cold gave her an excuse to huddle with a blanket, all to act feminine. Then came the conclusion tonight would be the night.

Within twenty minutes, she was dressed in her mourning attire, thick insulated boots replacing her normal footwear. The kimono was enough, at least for a short visit, but her feet needed protection from the elements. The light was fading in the west, meaning she had to hurry. Peering around each corner, she thought no one had noticed.

"Hinata!" the booming voice of the main family head echoed through the aged walls of the compound. The girl froze, her head turned away from the source of the sound. "Hinata, where are you going?" Hiashi stepped forward, noticing the ceremonial kimono she wore, and something on her eyes. "Turn around!"

The former heiress complied, the glint from the lenses of her glasses blocking out the steel-colored eyes from boring into her own. When the father realized, however, what she was wearing, there was no need to read her eyes, or her body language. Rather, all that was necessary was the understanding what those accursed things framing her face meant.

"W-when?" Hiashi coughed. Hinata visibly shrunk, her head tilting towards the ground. "Damnnit, answer me! When did this happen?" Still, there was no response, at least no verbal one. The girl shrunk further, her fingers twitching nervously, trying to find something to occupy her mind other than the loud roar of her father. "Who else knows about this?"

"My team, Kurenai-sensei, Neji-san-"

A swift blow struck the girl from the cold, hazy air which seemed to penetrate the defenses of the compound. Her face rang out in pain, stinging even further as yet another blow struck the same location, knocking her glasses to the floor. The strikes continued, all with an open palm, all with enough force to drive the point home. "A HYUUGA NEVER WEARS GLASSES!" the voice screamed at the top of the man's lungs. "OUR EYES ARE OUR VALUE. WITHOUT YOU YOUR EYES ARE USELESS, WITHOUT YOUR EYES, YOU ARE USELESS!" A few short breaths, and another blow to the face later, Hiashi spoke again. "Repeat what I said, all of it!"

"A...a Hyuuga never wears..." she started, before the tears began to flow.

Another series of blows, and the voice boomed again. "STOP CRYING! REPEAT WHAT I SAID!"

Before she could, the mind of Hyuuga Hinata made a life-changing decision. She was intelligent, of course, but intelligence and bravery, or the nerve to betray, are completely different things. Her right foot, the dominant one, started first, twisting on its heel, and taking a step away from the man. Her left foot followed like the obedient limb it was, as did the rest of her body. Her father reached out, and tore at the girl's kimono, hoping to restrain her without resorting to taijutsu.

The pajama-clad girl sprinted from the compound as the temperature of the valley rose, bringing rain to eradicate the snow.

•••••••••••••

Uzumaki woke from his daze, his senses immediately attuned to the howl of the blizzard. The screams cried out to him once again, just beyond the shadows of night. The snow showered him relentlessly, both he and his mount knee-deep in the powdery drifts as they crossed the treacherous expanse of tundra. The forest was only another thirty meters away, yet that stretch contained wolves, or a hidden bandit waiting to ambush him.

The soft, feminine voice took on a sob, causing the hairs on his neck to stand on end under the limited comfort of the canvas cloak. He could hear her pleading voice, asking "why aren't you here?", or "why did you leave me?" For the most part, though, it only repeated his name in the howling wind. "Naru-to," the high pitched whine of the wind gusts cried out.

Something was wrong.

Uzumaki pulled the horse to a trot, forcing the both of them on. There would be no more delays. He would not waste any more time. Konoha was only a few days away. The warm weather would be there. His friends would be there. More importantly, she would be there.

"Naru-to!" the wind howled again, answered by the cries of wolves.

•••••••••••••

Hinata tried to hide the bruises behind the mud which had coated her face and clothes when she fell into the dirty side streets of Konoha. She still didn't understand what she was doing here, not at Ten Ten's home. However, there were very few places she could go at this point in time. The knock on the door was soft, a mouse's attempt to make itself known. She heard each footstep from within the modest structure, her heart pounding with every creak of carpentry. She would do anything to be somewhere else.

The door opened slowly, the brunette with hazel eyes staring out into the night air. "Hinata?' the girl squeaked. "What... what happened?" Clearly the make-up had been running in the pouring rain of the cold night. The snow, which had barely had a chance to form, was gone. All purity of the outside had disappeared when this girl arrived. Perhaps, Ten Ten thought, this was the curse of the Hyuuga name. The bruises around her face and neck were large, far larger than those Neji could deliver. Even after the chuunin exams, when the cousin had battered her about the arena, he was leaning to appreciate Hinata when her vision improved, as did her confidence. There was no need to beat her into fighting anymore.

No, these were the marks made by a grown man, an aged man with expertise in the higher techniques of their gentle fist combat style. "I would... rather not say," the girl squeaked. Ten Ten cringed as she stepped away from the door, letting the girl in. She was soaked, her normal attire replaced by a cotton t-shirt and pants, clearly her pajamas. As the fragile girl stepped in to the warm, comforting home, Ten Ten retrieved a large towel, wrapping up the fidgeting Hyuuga in the soft fabric.

The girl jumped, causing a sting to Ten Ten's heart. She was so frightened, so easily crushed. For someone to break her further, when Neji finally started to comment to Gai about how his cousin was quickly making up for her limited skill, that was just cruelty. Hinata eased into Ten Ten's arms, shivering while wrapped in the blanket. "Your body temperature is dropping," the brunette replied sternly. "Hypotheermia is setting in."

It took six minutes of arguing with the stubborn, shy Hyuuga to finally get her disrobed and in the hot bath water. Within seconds, however, Hinata's tense muscles eased, her shaking slowing, and her mind slowly closing off the millions of frantic, painful memories which kept her on edge. Ten Ten sat beside her, patting down the bruises softly with a warm washcloth. "What.. happened to your glasses?"

"Father... broke them..." Hinata whispered, her voice choking on the shallow gasps for air. The breaths quickened, then slowly eased into a soft, steady patten as Ten Ten took the girl's right hand. "Why... why are you so nice to me?"

Ten Ten did not have an answer, as she wrapped her arms around the girl's shoulders. She did, however, have a solution. "You're staying here for the next few days," the brunette growled. "Neji and I will help you until you can find a place away from the main family compound."

Hinata closed her eyes, and leaned back into Ten Ten's arms. "O-okay..." She was too tired to argue, not after sinking into the bath water. She couldn't think about why her cousin would help her, the consequences of Ten Ten's words, or how she would support herself on a genin's income. Rather, her mind only turned again and again to the lonely marker amongst the melting snow. She had failed to reach it that night.

•••••••••••••

Killing while a shinobi was easy, Naruto thought. However, killing as a mercenary, he found, was much harder. As a shinobi, he was a tool dispatched to complete a mission already engineered by superiors with a cold wisdom. They were capable of determining the risks. As a mercenary, though, there was no satisfaction of orders from above. He could not shrug the responsibility of his actions off to others. Even though he never did, even though he embraced his way of the ninja, there was a certain comfort knowing he would have a guide for right and wrong.

That, he thought, he could still not find.

The dream woke him once again from the only sound sleep he had in the two months since his escape. The bodies fell before him as though struck down with a plague. His chest glowed an unusual shade of red, seeming to burn with a hate he could not control. He knew the source of that hate, and wondered if he could ever master it, as yet another body fell. His chakra points sealed, and the prison further locked down, he could not help but feel the beast within him eating away at his defenses. It would find a way to consume him, if he did not remain on guard.

The three bandits fell to the ground, screaming as they burned alive into masses of carbon remains. As he traced his hand to wipe the blood from his face, Naruto felt the smirk formed by his lips, and tried to push it back.

The horse shook him awake, nuzzling the boy's forehead. It was a simple act the warmblood learned to repeat again and again. As the two approached the Fire Country, these fever dreams seemed to occur more often. Still, the bay also reacted differently as they approached the border, but not for the same reasons. This boy, it discovered, was different. There were no harsh strikes, no screams, or demands backed by pain. Trust was still far from developing, but there was less to guard against.

Uzumaki no longer considered himself worthy of his first name. That name, he determined, was used with a happy teasing, and fond memories once he became a genin. It was also too childish for his new role, and for the sickly, sticky feeling of dirty blood on his hands that could not quite be washed away with the responsibility of a soldier. He was a killer now, and while he fought for good, without a morality to guide him, it was no different than murder for hire.

What made him worthy of Hinata's love?

The former shinobi clenched his fists, and listened to the dark cries of the wind. The snow had eased some, but still, the girl's voice screamed out his name. "Na-ru-to!" the wind howled, causing the trees to shudder. Slowly, the boy rose to his feet, dusted the snow off of his tattered gear, and guided the horse along to the east. He left the fire burning, if only as a marker to determine his direction.

No, he considered. It was more than a marker. As he felt the weight of his weapons pull him into the frigid snow, the heat of the comforting flames continued to offer him a light to guide his path. It was a sign of civilization, of hope, and

a means to separate his objective from the darkness. It was, as he looked back one last time, something which was still burning in the east. It was burning in that village he once called home, and would be there to comfort him once again.

"Hinata," he breathed.

•••••••••••••

The meeting, while rushed, was quite organized. For only a two week period, Kurenai had to admit, she was impressed at everyone's professionalism. The research on the Hyuuga's patriarch structure, and the means it was enforced was accurate to the last detail. Of course, it was not something surprising, coming from a village of shinobi. She scowled at the head of the Hyuuga main family. "I asked you a question," Hiashi growled. "Where is my daughter?" Kurenai, however, refused to answer. "If you refuse me, the consequences will be severe."

"And if I report you for child abuse, again, the consequences will be severe," she replied, folding her hands, sitting beside Gai, Neji, Ten Ten, Kakashi, and the other genin team leaders. "You once entrusted me with her safety, and now, you choose to endanger your own daughter's life?"

"She is crippled," the man explained. "There is no other way to describe it. Without her eyes, she is nothing, will be nothing, and can hope to achieve nothing." The genjutsu specialist let her lips pull into a frown, hands clenching each other to the point her knuckles turned white. "You were to protect her as long as she was useful as a shinobi. Now, she is useless, and no longer falls under your protection."

"She is not useless!" Ten Ten yelled, leaping to her feet, hands bracing her against the long wooden conference table. "With glasses, her vision is perfectly corrected. She can still use the Byakugan. How is that useless?"

Hiashi folded his arms, refusing to give in to a commoner. "She will remain on my team," Kurenai spoke calmly, sliding a thick stapled packet towards the man. "This was approved by the Hokage earlier today. It is Hinata's emancipation. For all intents and purposes, she is now considered an adult by our village law, and can live where she chooses."

The elder Hyuuga rose to his feet, knocking his chair to the floor. "Fine!" he hissed. "Do what you must!" As the man stormed out of the room, Kakashi glanced at each of his comrades. Things, he considered, were not going quite according to plan. Kurenai sighed. "What is it, Kakashi?"

"He is right," the Copy Ninja answered. "WIthout her eyesight, all of her techniques are compromised. Even with corrective lenses, all an enemy needs to do is remove her eyewear, and she is disabled."

Kurenai nodded, but stood by her decision. "She is my student, and I will stick by her." She nodded in respect to Neji, then Ten Ten. "How is Hinata?"

"She has a replacement pair for the glasses her father destroyed," the brunette genin answered, making sure her disapproval of the main family was clear. "Her bruises are healing, and she is back to training, but something is still wrong. She has been visiting the graveyard quite often."

"That is not necessarily a bad thing," Gai spoke up. "It is good to reflect on the lives of the fallen, to serve as an example for living the life of shinobi."

"No, I mean... she has been visiting one grave in particular," Ten Ten corrected. "She is there for hours on end."

Kurenai sighed. "Okay," she breathed. "I will take care of it."

•••••••••••••

The ANBU patrols had been on alert for nearly eight months since the departure of Jiraiya and Naruto, and things had not settled down. There were rumors of saboteurs lurking around every corner. They were no longer hired shinobi from the hidden villages, but instead were crude special forces units, with limited ninjutsu training. However, they had the advantage in weaponry, and someone from the various shinobi clans was foolish enough to teach them advanced genjutsu.

There had been four attempts to breach the Konoha perimeter, either using genjutsu, explosives, or more crude entering techniques. Tunneling, Tsunade thought, had gone out of style decades ago, long after proper penetration techniques were honed to an artform. She sat in her office, looking out the window into the raining, gusty weather. Still, she considered, their methods were effective for stirring up trouble. Their diversions were enough to keep everyone on alert, and do what any good covert ops agent attempts to do.

They were keeping everyone in the village in a panic.

The Hokage glared at the latest communique from the Sand Village. There were rumors of yet another faction, this one demanding sovereignty within the borders they conveniently selected along a major trade route between Wind and Fire Country. She would have to divert the enhanced patrols along the perimeter to protect the main trade route. If necessary, they would have to form a blockade, and somehow juggle the politics of the region during their diplomatic dance.

This would be troubling enough on it's own, but the fact a growing majority of hard-liners from the village council were influencing the younger generations, particularly the newly appointed jounin, forced her to pull in the reins with bluff and bluster in regular political speeches. She was not meant for the Hokage role, not at all. She could handle regular paperwork, but having to appeal to the good senses of a village with no sense left in it was insanity.

"Tsunade-sama!" Shizune cried. "We have reports of an enemy force challenging the blockade!"

Tsunade sighed. "What else is new?" she groaned. This shuffle back and forth over the imaginary line in the sand was pathetic. It had gone on for two weeks, always the same dance. The faction would send a squad of their elite troops to skim the blockade, threaten to toss some shuriken their way, wait for their jounin to give chase, then retreat into the woods. The woman froze, realizing her apprentice was fidgeting, holding back important information. "Well?"

"They're... asking for political asylum," she answered.

"They're WHAT?" the Hokage roared, her voice carrying through the city center of Konoha. "Dispatch a reconnaissance squad west of the blockade. I want answers, and I want them immediately." Tsunade studied the paperwork laid out on her desk. Before her assistant could leave, she signaled her one last time. "Shizune, order the following chuunin to my office immediately."

"Tsunade-sama?"

"It's time to replenish the ranks."

Tsunade sat back at her desk, pulling the files of several shinobi of chuunin rank, when she felt the slightest of sensations. It took her several minutes afterwards to determine it was a killing intent, but even without knowing the meaning, it made her skin crawl. Someone had slipped past her office's defenses, and was close enough to reach out and touch her anytime they wished. Trying to act naturally, the Hokage turned her office chair's back towards the window behind her, and with her profile hidden, sank under her desk, remaining there for a half an hour before Shizune reentered.

The genjutsu proven to have worked, and the target of the girl's hate put in her place, Hinata leapt from the nearby skyscraper, her actions observed only by her conscience.

•••••••••••••

The warhorse carried it's rider into the brunt of the oncoming infantry, gasping for air as the wounds to its calves stung with each step. Still, those could be ignored, while the furious screams of the mercenary could not. The bare-chested figure, raising both arms to his sides, loosed the bolts of each crossbow, their explosive tags igniting upon release. The bandits were already running, but the split second of time available to them upon impact of the arrows on their targets was not enough to cover the blast radius.

The soldiers whose bodies contained the barbed heads of the bolts suffered the most damage, scorched limbs flopping to the ground in a broiling, soggy bath of red. The enemy replied with their own volley, the archers standing behind the protection of the treeline in the distance. Several found their way into the rider, causing him to flop back against the flank of the bay.

But a single thought kept tearing at the sanity of his mind, driving away the pain. "Hinata..." the man hissed, pulling himself back to a sitting position. "Hinata," he breathed again, unsheathing the rusted saber from the canvas pack of his mount. "HINATA!" he cried again, bringing the blade down on a running archer, the lightly-armored bandit charging him with a katana. The head showed no expression as it bouced, rolling along the sloped hillside away from the treeline. The body continued to run two or three steps before the arms pitched forward, driving the katana into the dirt, impaling the corpse on the hilt.

"HINATA!" the mercenary screamed over and over, slashing at the running men, all shouting, their war cries replaced with pleas for their master to retreat. The warhorse snarled, letting out a warbling cry as it leapt over the burning supply carts, its hair singed from the knees down. But they did not stop. The rider brought the saber stiffly to the ground, letting his splinted arm rest as he charged the final target.

The warlord urged his horse away, but the animal bucked and whinnied. It was an untrained animal, just captured from the lat village they had raided. That was the mistake Suzuki of the Free Republic of Wind Country would never make again. As he crawled to his feet from the mud, his sword hand shook. The smoldering mount, its blood-clad rider, red eyes behind the crimson-stained flesh, the glint of rusted, war-torn steel; all of these were images the man would recall for years to come. "Master!" one of the wounded bandits barked, limping to his side. "Get out of here!"

Slowly, the brain of the would-be ruler of the rebelling faction caught up with his legs, his back turned as the mercenary's saber punched through the footman's chest. Without stopping, Uzumaki tilted the blade upward, letting the sharpened edge slice cleanly with the momentum of the horse, splitting his prey open. Suzuki could hear the bandit take two desperate steps downhill, then flop to the earth in three pieces.

As the warlord heard the deafening clop of hooves on the blood-rich soil, the night mist enveloping both victim and executioner, he felt the crushing weight of a dead man knock him to the side. Both he and his pale, impaled comrade slumped behind a fallen tree as the rider passed them over, still crying out into the night his ear-splitting shriek. "Hin-a-ta!"

•••••••••••••

Kurenai found her pupil, just as predicted, sitting beside the grave marker. The winter storms had faded for the most part, and left the remainder of the seasons with heavy rain, thick mud, and cloudy, joyless skies. There was no pleasure in this, not at all. However, the genin could not pull herself away. There was a calling to her from this marker, the feeling that no matter what she would do, the greatest joy she could ever have achieved in her life ended here, in this forsaken sector of the village.

"You have to let go, Hinata," Yuuhi said, not startling the girl. She was surprised how her student simply kept facing the grave, yet aware of her presence. Her skills with Byakugan, while effective within her normal field of vision, were practically useless from behind, unlike the others of her clan. As the eyesight further deteriorated with the use of her bloodline limit, her ability to sense approaching hostiles had not. "Are you listening?"

"Is this a test?" the cast out heiress asked. "You have a kunai in each hand, and you are in a defensive posture." The jounin blinked, studying the black kimono-wearing girl with interest. "Each person walks, moves, and speaks in such a way as to leave a certain signature," she explained. "Your sound is softer than Neji's, and far easier to tell when there's a killing intent."

"You... were able to tell that all from sound?" the jounin exclaimed. "That's... impossible!"

Hinata turned towards her sensei, and bowed, glancing over the edge of her wire framed glasses. Her teacher's face was a beige blur, her features indistinguishable from a smear of grease on a whitewashed wall. "I have to," she explained. "It's getting worse. I've had to have the prescription changed again."

"A-again?" Kurenai squeaked. "But... it shouldn't be that-"

"It happens every time I use the Byakugan now, even with the lightest effort," the girl interrupted. "It doesn't matter what I do. As long as I use that technique, I will go blind." Hinata looked down at her feet, the ground seeming to swallow the puddles of fair skin and open-toed assault shoes. "Kurenai-sensei, I won't be a chuunin, will I?"

Yuuhi walked up to her student, and gently placed her hands on the girl's shoulders. "You can, and you will, I know it!" She tried to smile, but it always came off false. The Hyuuga turned again, her back facing the instructor. "Hinata, please, just give it some time. You're away from the main family. You can study any taijutsu and ninjutsu techniques you want now."

"It will not be the same," Hinata countered. "I... I can't compete with him!" she started to sob. "How can I live his dream for him if I can't even compete as an adequate genin?" The tears started to pass through her defenses, staining her corrective lenses in saline. It wouldn't be hard to clean, but she would have to do that at the small apartment, the one a certain deceased genin used to call home. "I... I even live in his old apartment!" she shrieked. "It's her fault..." the girl hissed.

"Who's fault?" Kurenai asked, the hairs on the back of her neck starting to stand on end. There was something so wrong about this. Hinata, while under her guidance, was depressed but under control. This girl, this falling, misguided thing, on the other hand, could only be summed up as unstable. "Hinata... you're scaring me."

Another set of footsteps emerged from her blurred, fading world as Kurenai held her. "H-Hinata?" Ten Ten whispered. The Hyuuga did not respond. "Hinata... Gai-sensei told me he is willing to offer you specialized taijutsu training. I... I've seen Lee come close to defeating Jyuuken several times. It's just a matter of-"

Hinata delivered an elbow strike to her sensei's gut, driving the woman back to the mud. Ten Ten tried to reach out, but before it was possible, the fallen girl formed a crude genjutsu, vaporizing into the pattering rain. "Nothing... that is my destiny," she sobbed into the night, mocking her rescuers. "Nothing..."

Ten Ten's eyes widened, looking left to right along the treeline. When had Hinata learned genjutsu? Kurenai-sensei certainly didn't teach it to her, not with strict instructions from the father as to what she could be taught. She could be anywhere by now, or... to her horror, right beside them. "Kurenai-sensei?" Ten Ten asked.

"We have to speak to the Hokage," Yuuhi answered, stumbling to a sprint. "If we don't hurry, we'll lose another genin."

•••••••••••••

The promotion, Iruka thought, had both advantages and disadvantages. The advantage, of course, was the fact he was able to expand his role as an instructor to the academy graduates. Soon, he thought, he would be Konohamaru's teacher once again. The disadvantage, he considered, was the fact he was here at the mission briefing. Not five minutes after reaching the jounin rank, he was already assigned an S-rank mission.

"We can't afford to be picky," the Hokage kept repeating. "We need feet on the ground, and as many as we can spare." Tsunade pointed towards the map of the magnified view of the Wind-Fire country borders. "If the partitioning of Wind Country continues, the civil war will move into our country, and spill out into the village itself." She allowed the thought to sink in before she elaborated. "Trade routes will be boobytrapped, and we will be forced to withdraw our contracts with our clients to the north while we try to hold off these continuing attacks." Again, she paused.

"Ma'am, then what is our specific mission?" Iruka asked, raising his hand to gain her attention.

Tsunade sighed. "The Sand have had their trade routes cut off, and are asking for support. Our blockade is helping needed supplies and clients get through, but each day the border is challenged. Furthermore, our own village perimeter has nearly been breached four times within the last six months as the conflict has escalated." Pointing to a portion of the map circled in red ink with a wooden stick, she turned to the new jounin. "Within the lsat sixteen hours, one faction in particular has challenged the blockade, and are demanding political asylum. If we let them through, the other factions will lash out, and use the oppportunity to strike. However, if we hold them back, these refugees will also attack our blockade. Your mission is to support the existing ANBU squads, and hold the blockade until we can get permission from the nearest neutral village to redirect the refugees."

"If we cannot hold them back?" another newly appointed jounin asked. Iruka thought he recognized the voice, and saw Shikamaru, now wide awake, analyzing the map intently.

"If the situation escalates, I authorize you to execute the refugees," Tsunade retorted. Several gasps erupted from the conference room. "Our enemies are using guerrilla warfare, something even shinobi cannot defend against. The civilians could be rigged with explosive tags, and we have evidence to support recent claims their genjutsu training is vastly superior to our own. We cannot afford to allow any of their forces to get through. Provoking a political incident is beyond our concern at this time." She took a short breath, letting it out in a sigh. "We have to put the village first, and ask questions later."

As the jounin rose to their feet, Tsunade interrupted. "There is one final thing you must know." The woman's eyes darted about the room, locking gazes with each of the recruits she was sending to their potential death. "There have been several mercenaries reported in the area, most of them hired by the opposing forces who will not hesitate to engage shinobi. One in particular has been observed using advanced techniques only taught in the Hidden Villages. We are dealing with skilled professionals, so keep your eyes open, and if something seems out of place, don't take chances."

•••••••••••••

Uzumaki was wounded, but that did not bother him. Pulling the damp canvas cloak away, his bare chest exposed to the warm air of Fire Country, he could afford to let out a sigh. The cold of the western lands gone, he had one less pain to ignore. The arrows buried in his chest were only flesh wounds, minor inconveniences which he could put on hold until he arrived. The rider was so close now, he could wait another few hours for proper medical treatment. However, he doubted he could wait for the prime motivator of his journey. She had to be there.

The advanced patrol spotted the intruder some five hundred meters away, the figure slumped forward, riding bareback on the wounded bay. That, the shinobi thought, was the giveaway something was off. No one in the Fire Country rode horses, especially a foreign breed like this one. As it approached, they were able to make out the scars across the flank and legs from vicious lashings, and what appeared to be heavy combat use by an abusive owner.

The rider's patchy scalp, deep wounds to his chest, and the dangling, lifeless arms indicated a man who pushed himself to the brink of death. A series of bloody crossbow bolts, arrows, and kunai hung from a similarly stained canvas sack, serving as an improvised saddlebag, while a blunted, bent saber sat across the lap of the rider. The lead ANBU hissed commands to his subordinates, feeling a chill wind gust through their observation post in the trees. A man on the verge of death who continues on his mission was either a gallant hero, or a crazed fanatic. However, one with twin crossbows dangling from his limp fingers bordered on insane. He was not the kind of man who approached life gently.

"Wait, is that?" the youngest of the ANBU, the former chuunin Iruka, asked. He stared, noting the various cuts to the man's chest. His eyes finally fell to the curse seals, like pagan tattoos scarring the battle-torn flesh of his abdomen. "It can't be!" the former chuunin hissed. "Naruto?"

"Do we engage?" another new ANBU asked. The senior jounin shook his head. "But sir, he's heading for the village!"

"Do you know this kid?" the leader asked Iruka.

"Sir, it's one of our own genin... Uzumaki Naruto, I'm sure of it."

The leader rubbed his forehead, trying to clear his head. "Isn't he supposed to be dead?" He blinked for a moment, then stared at the incoming target. "He doesn't look like any genin we would train." Iruka started to protest, but was cut off. "Alright, we'll tail him, but we're running silent. If he tries anything, we'll take him down. Get me patched in directly with the Hokage."

One of the newest jounin, another ANBU recruit, traced silently up the treetops to the canopy, hauling a heavy backpack with him. They were ten, maybe fifteen klicks from the village, and needed immediate communication, not the standard carrier birds. The equipment was experimental, the latest in digital signal processing and computer encryption. Opening the backpack, the jounin began assembling the long mast, attaching the ribcage of an antenna to the top mounting bracket. Tossing a thick insulated cable downward, the ANBU tied down the mast, and rejoined his comrades below the canopy.

•••••••••••••

The experimental hotline sprung to life, the mechanical bell ringing frantically until Tsunade answered. "What do you have for me?" she demanded.

"This is ANBU patrol thirty-seven," the lead jounin answered into his headset. "Hokage-sama, we have confirmation Uzumaki Naruto is eastbound on the main trade route towards the village's west gate." Tsunade froze, and stuttered until the jounin continued. "One of the newbies, Iruka, tells me everything adds up, including a certain curse seal holding-"

"This is a prototype!" Tsunade reminded her subordinate. "Until we are certain, no channels are to be considered secure, understood?" She waited for the grunt of acknowledgment. "What does your man say about his condition?"

"It's bad, Sir," he answered. "He's barely conscious, and his horse looks in bad shape, too."

"Horse?" Tsunade asked, a wince hinted in her voice.

"That's what I thought too, Sir. This just doesn't add up, but if it is one of our own, and he's been running from the factions for months, it's likely he's had to improvise." Tsunade reminded herself to consider moving this man into a training position for instructing all chuunin in intelligence gathering. "We're following him passively until the west gate, and then we will slam the gauntlet shut."

"Very good," Tsunade answered. "I will be at the gate personally."

"Sir!" the jounin retorted. "That's too risky. This could easily be a trick. We know how good their genjutsu are."

"You're wrong," she growled. "It's because their genjutsu is so good I have to be there."

•••••••••••••

Hinata had spent a good two days before coming to her final decision. The apartment was cleaned out, her sparse provisions and worldly possessions stashed in her backpack. The landlord was no fool, and knew what the genin was trying to do. However, while it was a crime to deliberately allow a shinobi to escape from the village, there was enough plausible deniability to protect her from punishment. Furthermore, she couldn't necessarily stop the girl in the green goggles, whose skill with taijutsu, she learned, was improving, regardless of her near-sightedness. Rumors had circulated regarding people she had crippled with her latest bout of training, though those sorts of rumors always seemed incredible. Either way, she, an elderly civilian, was not going up against a vengeful outcast of the Hyuuga clan.

The hood covered her features, and with the right papers, she blended in perfectly with the small group of traders en route to Earth Country. There was just too much danger dealing with their old trading partners to the west, and even with an armed escort of shinobi, the factions were becoming desperate. It was better if they just travelled northeast, skirting the borders of Wind Country, maybe making a stop in the Hidden Sand Village where there were reinforcements, before continuing on to the north.

As Hinata approached the convoy, she came to a stop, noticing the large numbers of ANBU standing by the main gate. Did Kurenai already inform the Hokage? No, she thought. There were far too many ANBU just for dealing with a temperamental kunoichi, particularly one who had not yet acquired the skill to take on a jounin. There was something else at the gate, taking both the interest of the civilians and the other ninja during their daily patrols.

The Hyuuga girl approached cautiously, adjusting her goggles under her tan cloak. The bare-chested rider, his head dangling between his shoulders, grunted to the war horse as it crossed the threshold of the main gate to Konoha. "Is... that?" one of the ANBU standing watch on the perimeter wall asked his comrade at the checkpoint below. "B-but... he's dead!" But as the bay snorted, his teeth bared, eyes seeming to burn with hate, the rider rose up. The slack head snapped to attention, revealing the spiral pattern in the metal piece which shielded the scarred forehead. In both hands were crossbows, a single bolt loaded in each, while the reins to the horse were lashed to the buttstock of the one in his right. The horse and rider were a walking armory, nothing like Ten Ten, but disturbing in the crude presence of such arms of defense. Perhaps more disturbing were the arrows buried deep in the rider's upper torso, the bloodstained chest a filthy, festering series of wounds.

"Halt!" one of the guards of the main gate barked. "Identify yourself!"

"Am I late for the chuunin exams?" the man simply asked. At this, the lead guard shook his head. The rider grinned. "Then... there is still time." He suddenly frowned as his body went limp. A shooting pain passed through his spine, and his eyes began to close.

The guards raised their kunai to eye level. "I asked who you were! Identify yourself!" the lead guard barked once again. It was during this commotion the citizens of Konoha started to crowd the main gate's nearest intersections, all whispering in the streets. Within that crowd, the discarded heiress stared. "Tell me who you are!"

"N-Naruto?" Hinata blurted out. A few of the villagers snapped their heads around to the girl, then looked in disgust at the boy on the horse. "Stop!" she screamed at the ANBU. "Let him in!" Hinata was not superstitious, and far from spiritual, often to the distaste of her father. However, a ghost, especially a pale rider, often converts the most headstrong of individuals. Her reaction was not one of fear. As the eyes stung with the back pressure of saline, a few drops slipping past her defenses, the genin sprinted towards what she could only consider a daydream. "Naruto!"

Uzumaki blinked a few times, then noticed the cloaked figure running at speed. He thought he heard the girl's voice, but during his time on the trail, he had heard a lot of things. "Hi-nata?" he asked, his legs slipping, losing their grip on the back of his mount. In seconds, the fatigued boy impacted the firm cobblestone street, his arms crumpling.

The first of the ANBU dove towards the suspicious target, drawing his kunai. Hinata froze, watching in slow motion as the group pinned his unconscious body to the ground. The horse whinnied, kicking savagely at the men. Several stumbled back, only to lash out at the horse, kunai driven deep into its throat. Hyuuga could only scream out into the promenade, running to the mass of bodies. "Naruto!"

•••••••••••••

End of Chapter I

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Shinobi gone mercenary? It's not necessarily a drastic change, especially for ninja paid for missions. However, how the character of Naruto changed to make this shift possible will be explained in the next chapter.

By the way, I hope this finally stops the complains about short chapters.

Coments/questions, please leave a review.

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