Author's Notes

So for some reason, I'm very drawn to the idea of how the Iwa ninja would treat Naruto, and what would have happened had he been raised there. This storyline has been floating around in my mind for some time.

Anyways, this story was inspired by the following quotation:

"A house is made of walls and beams; a home is built with love and dreams."

Chapter 1: The Calm Before a Storm

Naruto looked into the calm canyon, Iwagakure's natural defense. The last Great War had torn apart this strong nation, and Naruto could sympathize. The Yondaime was unparalleled and relentless, and the stories they told of Konoha at its peak seemed unreal, unlike anything Naruto had experienced during his time there. Although miserable, he had managed to make friends and grow into an individual comfortable with himself… and what he contained.

But in Iwa? He flourished. They loved him for all the things Konoha hated – he had directly contributed to the fall of their greatest enemy. Tsuchigakure erected a monument celebrating his greatness once the kage found out. He could hardly walk three steps through the streets without receiving a hug, a nod of approval and an elder holding his hand to thank him.

Personally, he wasn't sure how to think of the fourth. The man who had taken away everything from him had also, indirectly, been responsible for granting him a whole new set of abilities, his personality and strength, and most importantly, his home in Tsuchigakure. He was more than mature enough to understand the two sides of any war – the heroes on one side, defending the village, are also the enemies on the other. Having lived in both villages, no one had a better understanding of that than Naruto.

A small cough interrupted his thought process.

"Uzumaki-san." An elder woman kindly smiled. For the first time Naruto took a look around the room. Everything seemed to slow down as he processed the information he had just been given.

"The council has deemed it so. Think of this as a mere formality." Another elder walked in, but he was slightly younger than the woman. "After all, this man, he means nothing to you anymore, correct?"

There was a brief moment of tension in the room. Naruto could sense the thoughts that were flying through their heads. Would he actually be a traitor? Who is this man to him? It's been years since he'd last been there – why not just accept it already? How could you throw away such a great honor?

The table had an old, faded picture of a man he once knew. The image was pinned down by a kunai that pierced the table. In a fluid motion, Naruto pulled the kunai out and tore the picture in two, leaving a large gash across the man's faded face. "Of course. I will bring you his head."

The stress in the room evaporated. Before the picture could float down to the floor, Naruto had already left to pack his belongings. It was time to prove his mettle.

. . .

The icy, torrential downpour made him numb to the pain. It didn't matter that there was a gaping hole in his chest. It didn't matter that a monstrous hand, morphed by an evil seal, had punctured his lung. It didn't matter that the demonic limb belonged to his best friend. It didn't matter that this brother was leaving Konoha, never to return again.

In that moment, Uzumaki Naruto was wholly immersed in his own thoughts. They say when one is laying on his deathbed, an entire life flashes – a life full of promises, sorrows and ultimately, the people treasured most. For Naruto, none of those occurred. As he fell into the flooded river, he could only feel regret.

Hokage? It was all a waste of time for a village that didn't mean anything.

Konoha? What did the civilians mean to him anyway.

Team 7? It was all but gone.

Old man Hokage? He was dead.

Kakashi-sensei? Off doing missions. Without Sasuke, their team would be split. He was a decent sensei. A better ninja. But what was it all worth…

Sakura-chan? She didn't care for him. Her eyes were set on the man in front him. The man whose dark wings were spreading to even murkier future.

Iruka-sensei? The faintest hint of a smile took hold of his countenance. One man, who, despite everything that happened, eternally cared for him. Risked his life for him. Saw him as a human being. That was a tougher question to answer, but Naruto had to do what was necessary.

It was time to say goodbye to Konohagakure no Soto. It was time to take a step forward and stop lingering in a painful past. He briefly wondered if he'd even be alive the next day? His worries were put to rest by the tingling feeling of the mighty Kyuubi no Yoko getting to work. With that, he let the familiar comfort of unconsciousness take hold.

The next day Naruto woke up to find himself in the hospital. Quietly, Naruto slipped into his orange outfit that day and never looked back. Leaving behind his past had been difficult – near impossible, at first. He roamed through various villages, forever unsure of where he was going, but consistently getting in trouble. He thought of stopping by to visit Inari and Tsunami in the old bridge builder, but it didn't seem necessary to bother them. Besides, he wouldn't really be leaving his past if he decided to revisit his first A rank mission. No, it was best to just… keep moving.

. . .

It had been seven long, grueling years of work – but it had paid off. The people of Iwa were a proud, resilient group, confident in their ability to always survive regardless of the toughest terrains. Iwagakure itself was in a barren desert canyon where relatively little grew. Most, if not all, of the village was underground. Their jutsus specialized in defensive measures, and their lifestyles reflected their mentality of caution.

Naruto was careful enough not to dig his roots too deep. He never really decorated his apartment, never truly embraced any particular location as his 'home' per se. Sure, he had friends, and the people were incredibly welcoming. But he refused to be so attached as to let another catastrophe shake his world. In a ninja's line of work, one simply could not afford that.

Naruto ascended the ranks fairly quickly. Within two years of his arrival he was a Jounin. Another two and he became an elite assassin. And now – three years after that? He was on his way to becoming one of three nominees for Tsuchikage, the highest honor possible.

He knew the other two – Konosuke Matsushita, a fairly older ninja with an impeccable grasp of genjutsu, and Tatsuro Tanaka. Tatsuro had been part of the Black Ops Sarsen program, a clandestine operations department that recruits from an early age – akin to Konoha's ROOT division of ANBU. Rumored to be the man who had killed more than anyone in the village, Naruto seemed wary of direct confrontation with the man. He could feel the oncoming storm. This was merely round 1. They had each been given a rather dangerous mission, and it wasn't so much about getting it done as not being discovered. Iwa had a strong affiliation for breaking international treaties, violating status of forces agreements, and simply escalating situations. What they valued most in a leader was someone who wasn't afraid to get their hands a little dirty and, ultimately, had the brains to avoid political catastrophes when they inevitably took place.

In many ways the village seemed directly opposite of Konoha's attitude. Well, perhaps not all of Konoha. Danzo no doubt shared a very similar philosophy to most of the council that ran Iwagakure. The Sandaime Hokage was by far the exception to Konoha's actions, not the norm. Most villages, Naruto had discovered through his missions, behaved the same: they acted in their own self-interest. Regardless of the circumstances, when push came to shove, international law took a back seat. That was why his group existed: Tomb was a relatively novel program (begun by the Yondaime Tsuchikage) that cleaned up messes, which was essentially code for almost exclusively took care of assassinations.

Naruto steadied his unique, bloodshot katana. He'd bring it along just in case. His uniform was fairly distinctive, but given the inconspicuous nature of most of his missions, he doubted anyone would recognize it. The tight, onyx vest matched the dark obsidian pants – flexible enough to move, but not baggy so as to get caught. His vest had a dark gray etching of a swirl. As the last Uzumaki, he wanted to consciously remind himself to always care only for himself.

The katana sheath in the back was sealed so that only his chakra could access any of his weapons. There were myriad of seals across his clothes – a summoning scroll, neatly sealed away, a teleportation seal so that if he were killed in battle, his body would be taken back to the Tsuchi shinobi, and several traps for anyone who attacked him while he was sleeping.

He looked back across the dark brown canyon. To an untrained eye, there would be no signs of life. Some abandoned, partially burnt houses, several rock structures that were toppled, and a desert that showed no mercy to any parched soul. But for the past seven years, this had been his home. He knew all the secret entrances, all the ruses and snares, and most of all, he knew the people. He looked into the distance, far beyond the desert where animals roamed the prairies and mountains towered above the land.

If all went well, he'd be the next kage within two years. He thought about his current mission. The man he had to kill. It was no time for dawdling. This time, Naruto couldn't afford to falter. This time, the rasengan would win.

"Hatake Kakashi, you're a dead man."

A golden flash was seen streaking towards Fire Country.