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Prelude

Karin cursed loudly, pushing her sopping wet bangs out of her eyes for what had to be the sixtieth time this minute. The soaked mass of spiky red hair immediately fell back into its previous place on her forehead, covering her eyes. The woman cursed again, turning to bark hot-temperedly to the half-dozen or so burly men carrying boxes into the back of a nearby delivery truck.

"Hurry up you fat lay-abouts!" The red-head shouted above the driving hiss of rain against the pavement. "Sasuke isn't paying you by the hour, so get this truck loaded!"

If any one of them heard the woman, none gave any indication of it. They were used to Karin's aggressive posturing and it wasn't as if she were doing them any harm. And besides, if any of them ever did talk back, she was one of Sasuke's three executive lieutenants; they would find themselves at the very best case: unemployed.

The Yakuza which, for better or worse, basically ran Konoha from the streets up, was governed by very strict rules of conduct. In a place where morals and absolutes went to the highest bidder, honor and loyalty to one's current employer became a man, or woman's 10 commandments. When you were in a gang, you earned the right to talk back, or you had the fire-power to back your mouth up. And while the six guys were pretty sure that they could take the little red-headed witch, they had no desire to tangle with Boss Sasuke. So they bent their heads against the driving rain, continued to trundle packing crates and contented themselves with grumbling internally.

Their reluctance to respond to her verbal abuse put Karin out. She huffed and flounced to her car, a red Ford Mustang. It was too bad, the woman silently mused, she'd almost wished that one of those dimwitted male's had risen to her insults. She'd been in the mood to crack a few heads. She reached for the driver's side door. If only Suigetsu had been there for her to argue with, she could always get a rise out of him.

Silently promising herself that she would find the platinum-haired man and pick a fight with him as soon as she got back to base, Karin opened the car door.

She slammed the door and winced as her wet clothing squelched against the plush leather seat. Once more she cursed.

"Sasuke-kun," The woman pouted to the air. "Why did you have to send me out to this place in this awful weather? I'm so delicately beautiful; this rain is going to ruin my perfect face."

Combing her fingers through the matted tangle of her hair, Karin continued to sulk.

It wasn't as though she deserved to be out in the rain. Sasuke-kun was just so sensitive about the silliest things. Although, the red-head though to herself; if she were honest, she was lucky that the young Uchiha had deemed a month's worth of nightly drug running as a suitable punishment for her transgression. She supposed that she was fortunate enough despite her current situation. If she'd been working for Orochimaru like she had been a year ago, she would most certainly be dead. That… man had been chronically paranoid, and on a huge power trip. He'd seen any deviation from his orders as a personal threat. Karin had seen him blow away several of his right-hand men before her eyes, some for offenses no worse than not showing up to base on time.

It was however, thanks to Orochimaru's itchy trigger finger that Karin was now one of Sasuke's three chief lieutenants. She had been in line to become Orochmaru's next right-hand, a position that seemed to have become a temporary one, when Sasuke had killed him. It was something of a mystery to Karin, why it was the the typically paranoid gang leader had allowed Sasuke as close to himself as Orochimaru had: close enough for Sasuke to kill him.

When the take-over had occurred, a few months ago, Karin had been pleasantly surprised when Sasuke, instead of shooting her along with all of Orochimaru's other officers, had offered her a position in his new order. Karin was a lot of things, but stupid wasn't one of them. She'd seen an opportunity when she saw one and she had taken it. And so she had been working for the Uchiha ever since.

It had only been a matter of months after the death of Orochimaru and with Sasuke in control, the little known underground street gang had expanded. The newly dubbed 'Taka' gang no longer sold black market organs, but had taken ahold of nearly 40% of the cities drug market and in a city as vast as Konoha, that was no small amount. It was all thanks to Sasuke's strategic genius. The man had also gotten into the protection game. In a town where most everyone was afraid of one warring faction or another, peace of mind was a commodity they paid dearly for. Even a few prostitute houses had gone independent thanks to the Uchiha. Karin had smiled when the members of a nearby 'hot house' had sent Sasuke a thank-you card proclaiming him an honorary saint, or whatever.

Sasuke had transformed the ill-conceived, rag-tag band of street thugs into a well-oiled machine that was quickly becoming a power in Konoha.

He'd worked out a deal with the local constabularies to…look the other way should any less than legal activities be uncovered.

He was brilliant, Karin concluded. And certainly he was very…attractive. Well, perhaps more than just plain old attractive. The woman shook her head. Who was she kidding, that man was F-ing gorgeous. Greek gods were up on Mt. Olympus wrestling over who got to use his body once he'd kicked the bucket. Amazon's vied for a glance at his perfectly formed features. He was the paragon of tall, dark haired and delicious.

Karin sighed, removed her glasses and wiped the water stains away with her blouse.

"I suppose I ought to get back out there." The red-head said to no one in particular. "Those idiots have probably run off with all the merchandi-"

Before she could finish, something slammed down on the car's hood, hard, shaking the vehicle violently. Karin pressed a hand to the cool glass of the side-window in an effort to steady herself. She leaned forward, trying to pick out what was perched in the now dented hood of her sports car. It looked like…

The figure disappeared and a split second later her door was ripped off its hinges. It was tossed into the blackness where Karin heard it crash against something solid, probably the van. Before she had time to emit even the tiniest scream the woman was hauled out and flung against an unforgiving brick wall, the air driven from her lungs by the force of the impact.

Karin collapsed onto the alley's slick pavement, instantly soaked to the bone. Her water laden clothing weighed on her weakened limbs. As she gasped for breath, the red-head struggled to move backward with her trembling arms and legs, trying to escape her attacker, which in effect looked something like a fish flopping around on dry land.

She was grabbed once again by her coat front and lifted roughly upwards until her feet no longer touched the ground.

Dizzy and weak from lack of oxygen, Karin found herself staring into the horrific maw of a nightmare apparition.

It, because she couldn't assign a gender to the abstract form, in truth she couldn't even distinguish a form in the blackness before her. The only features she could pick out from the black backdrop was the hand holding her against the brick wall and a pair of eyes glaring out from the darkness. But these wyes were like none she had ever encountered in her life, or conjured in her worst nightmares.

The irises were red, of no shade or hue natural to man. The closest Karin could come to describe that frightening color was burning blood. The pupils were thin and sliced down the middle of those flaming orbs, a slender knife blade emerging from a bloody sun.

"Are you afraid, woman?" Its voice was a low, murderous growl that rumbled out from the depths of the night.

Karin began to tremble, the shivers wracking her entire body and she discovered that she could not form the words to even acknowledge the raw emotion thrumming through her veins. She nodded dumbly instead, wishing that its eyes were not focused quite so intensely on her.

The fiend's eyes narrowed and for a moment the woman was terrified that she had offended it with her silence. But its laughter rumbled out through the crackling deluge.

Karin flinched at the sound which she found more frightening than the creature's wrath.

The monster drew nearer, close enough for Karin to see her own terrified features reflected in its eyes. She felt the creatures' hot breath and a lock of wet hair brushed against her face. The monster let out another low chuckle, turning Karin's blood cold.

"Tell me who you work for." The fiend growled. "Who is expecting this shipment?"

The red-head gulped, fighting to blink the excess rainwater from her eyes. Her instincts told her to give it what it wanted, to save herself. But Karin knew that if she talked now, she would be forever known as a squealer. Her reputation was at stake, and her life. In order to protect both, she would have to play a very dangerous game. Feigning nonchalance, she laughed lightly. "What are you going to do if I don't tell you, kill me?"

The thing's other hand began to trace the line of Karin's throat and jaw, the visibly rapid beating of her pulse. One finger lightly stroking the skin, as gently as a mother would her sleeping infant. The stroking would have been soothing in any other situation. Now, however, Karin could only tremble as fear began to weave its way through her system.

The thing leaned forward yet again; breathing in the woman's expelled breath before whispering:

"Yes."

Karin let out a startled cry as the large hand wrapped around her wind-pipe, freezing the breath in her lungs. She couldn't even force the air past the creature's constricting grasp to exhale.

Karin gasped and struggle, one hand pulling at the hand on her windpipe while the other clawed viciously at the face which had suddenly become far out of reach.

"A name." The creatures voice prompted wearily. "Just give me the name of the street your base is set up on, or the name of one of your suppliers. Give me the name and you can continue to live your worthless life."

The red-head struggled for a moment longer, against the constricting grasp until black began to thread along the edges of her vision. On the edge between oxygen deprivation and consciousness, Karin discovered something about herself: she did not want to die.

"R-ra…" she managed weakly, using the last of the air in her lungs. "R-aime stre-et, in…sou-th…dis-tric-t."

"Ah," The monster chuckled, pleased with his newly gleaned tidbit of information. Its grip on Karin's neck disappeared and the woman gasped for breath; gulping down air like a starving man does food. The thing released her then and Karin fell to the street, coughing and choking as she went.

"Who-" She rasped, greedily sucking in oxygen. "Who are you?"

The creature's deep rumbling growl echoed out from the rains-wept blackness; sending another shiver curling through Karin's body.

"I am called Kyuubi, and I have returned to sweep the streets clean of the taint the gangs have brought to it. Tell your boss," If Karin hadn't known better, the creature had pause for…dramatic emphasis. "Tell your boss, that he should leave before this same day next month, or he will find the consequences…distasteful."

"But wait!" The red-head staggered unsteadily to her feet. "What is it that you want?"

The explosion knocked her back down, mud splattering onto her glasses and adding to the present layers on grime caked to her skin.

She eased her head from the wet pavement and looked in horror at the scene before her.

The delivery truck had been the source of the explosion. It now lay in a thousand smoldering pieces, a useless pile of refuse that hissed angrily as the fierce rain tried to extinguish the flames. And the cargo in the back…Karin didn't even want to think about that.

The men who had been loading the truck had vanished, leaving the woman alone in the driving rain. Whether they were dead or had simply been scared off meant little to Karin's battered pride.

She cursed into the rain, the sound of it drowning out her vicious words as the force of each steady droplette beat down upon her head.

She'd lost a shipment, lost half a dozen good workers, and while she was at it, allowed the perpetrator not only to escape, but had given it the street address to one of Taka's main bases.

Sasuke was going to kill her.

And now, part 2:

Chapter 1: Mornings come way too early for superheroes

"Good morning Konoha!" The radio blared to life, jarring its owner from his blissful sleep. "Take a look outside and check out the beautiful weather we've got today!"

"Noooooo…" The blond in bed moaned into his pillow. His hand reached blindly for the 'snooze' button, punching everyone it could find until the infernal noise shut off.

Naruto sighed blissfully and rolled over, nestling back into the thick, warm covers of his bed. Drowsily, the blond began a subconscious ode to the elusive subject of his desires, his thoughts growing fuzzier and less coherent as he dozed off. Sleep…what a beautiful thing. He got so little of it now days. He liked sleep…he needed sleep,he'd die sleep…

The shrill chiming of his cellphone jerked Naruto once more from his semi-conscious state.

Growling, the blond grabbed for the offending device where it typically rested: on the stand next to his bed. Unfortunately, as his fingers scrabbled on the small tables' polished metal surface, he realized that his cell was not where he usually kept it.

Naruto rumbled with displeasure, a sound that resonated from deep within his chest and sat up; planting his feet firmly on the ground.

"Okay," He muttered, rubbing his face with both hands. "I'm up, I'm up…"

The cellphone continued to shrill from somewhere within the refuse that lay in piles on his floor.

The blond stumbled toward the sound, tossing mounds of dirty laundry to either side and over his head. Shikamaru had been saying that it was time for him to clean his place; said that he'd seen creepy-crawlies breeding under the accumulating piles of unmentionables. Naruto of course had argued that he could only find his stuff when it was out in the open and not all tucked and hidden away in drawers. Now, in retrospect, Naruto almost wished that he'd listened to the lazy little smarty-pants. Fortunately, after digging a trench of clear, clean floor half-way across his small bedroom, Naruto struck pay dirt.

The man hefted his cellphone, silencing its frustratingly persistent alarm with the aggravated press of an index finger.

Quiet overtook the blonde's small apartment.

Naruto sighed and began trudging the short distance to the bathroom.

"Friggin alarms," The blond mumbled groggily, pulling his drab grey T-shirt over his head and tossing it to the side without even bothering to look where it had landed. His pants were shed and disposed of with equal dispassion.

Naruto kicked the door closed, switching the shower taps on and turning to the large mirror which hung over the sink. He studied himself in the glasses' reflective surface.

He was a sturdy young man of 24 years, well, 24 as of this coming October, but close enough.

The man's shockingly blue eyes moved over his features: his squared jaw and belligerent nose; his bright yellow hair which hung long and spiky down to his collar.

His foster father: Iruka Umino had said that Naruto looked a lot like his birth father once did with his hair grown out like that. It wasn't something that Naruto really cared much about; he'd never even known his father, or his mother for that matter. According to the orphanage records, both had been killed the night Naruto was born: something pleasant to lull a young orphan boy to sleep at night. There had been more to that story, but Naruto hadn't learned the specifics until much later.

He'd seen pictures of his family of course, and he had to admit; the similarities between father and son were striking. The only difference between himself and the elder Uzumaki were six scars that lined Naruto's cheeks with an eerie symmetry: three on his left, and three on his right.

His eyes roamed downward to the faded scars on his cheeks. Naruto rubbed one absently. They had been a part of his reflection for as long as he could remember, even before he'd come to stay with Iruka.

The blonds gaze flicked over his lean, tan torso, lingering on some of his individual attributes: his firm pectorals, rippling abs; his biceps and forearms bulging subtly with muscle.

Even his legs were long and powerfully built; rigid quads and firm calves were as darkly bronzed as the rest of his uniquely sun-kissed skin and (at the moment) they were just as sore as the rest of him.

As Naruto's eyes worked their way over his chest, and legs they fixed upon the large black symbol emblazoned on his stomach. The tattoo/birthmark hybrid was a huge ebony spiral which encircled his belly-button. The twisting arms of the coil curved outward in three bold sweeps until it was a hand's width from its starting point. And if that hadn't been gaudy enough, the brilliant little curly-cue was also encased in strange lettering-ish/symbol-ish/ random shapes.

The tattoo, like the scars on his face, had been present for as long as he could remember. It was the strangest tat, because it had grown along with him, not stretching or skewing as a typical ink job would.

The mirror began to fog up, a sign that the shower was up to temperature.

Naruto stepped in and hissed as the nearly scalding hot water coursed over his skin.

Strangely enough, the hiss was not because of the heat, or because he had burned himself, but simply because of the pressure of the water which now beat in a continuous stream against his aching muscles. Extreme heat had never bothered the boy, in fact, he'd always enjoyed the higher temperatures. He even seemed to radiate an abnormal amount of body heat; although he'd never noticed until his friend Kiba had jokingly referred to the blond as a 'radiator'.

He was something else, his friend Kiba. Naruto's hand's paused in the middle on soaping his golden spikes. "A friend…" The man whispered to himself, his hands unconsciously resuming their work.

His mind travelled back, to the time when Naruto had been alone. He hadn't had friends back at the orphanage, no one played with him during the designated playtimes, avoided him on the swings, even refusing his offer of cookies, the ones he'd managed to sneak out of the cafeteria after mealtimes. The parent's would guide their children away from him whenever his orphanage went out to the public park to play. The orphanage 'guardians': the adults which worked and stayed with the kids full-time, hadn't treated him with any affection. There was never any tenderness when they treated his scrapped knees. There was no hint of compassion when they watched him cry. They'd hold his hand and tell him to be brave, but not once had they hugged him, they'd not embraced him.

The only emotions he'd ever seen in their eyes were fear and pity, feelings too complex for a child of six to comprehend.

It really wasn't until after he'd cone to stay with Iruka that he'd found out the reason behind the fear, the story behind the pity.

His father, a one Uzumaki Minato and his wife Kushina were one of the few people in politics who'd actually cared about the rising gang trends in Konoha. The elder Uzumaki had been a very high-profile lawyer who had taken it upon himself to prosecute the recently established crime bosses. At the time, nearly 25 years ago now, a gang by the name Kyuubi had emerged. Minato had promised the public that he would put Kyuubi's boss behind bars. The man had sworn to break the back of this gang; to make the streets safe for all of Konoha's citizen's young and old, rich and poor.

He'd run for the office of District Attorney on that platform, his gorgeous and obviously adoring wife adding all of her support from behind the scenes.

Minato had always been a popular and charismatic man, drawing fans and crowds to his rallies and speeches better than the pop rapper Killer Bee had in his time. But what had probably gotten him the most votes was the small fact that he'd, during the campaign, gotten the leader of gang Kyuubi arrested pending a trial.

Naruto began to scrub his body absently, his mind moving back once more.

The day after the much publicized trial, and Boss Kyuubi's conviction, Minato had become Konoha's sixth District Attorney and his son Naruto Uzumaki had been born. That had been the night that mob retribution had ripped Naruto's parents away from him.

No one knew how, but a group of five men, all members of Kyuubi, had entered the public hospital undetected and had managed to glean Kushina's room number from a front desk manifest.

The same petite redheaded woman, who spoke little and smiled often; the vibrant, vital woman who was so full of life and love and pride for her husband: 'the liberator'. The new mother, so anxious for the love of her life to see the wonderful new life they'd created. She had been the first to die.

Minato had followed his blushing bride not long after, leaving his only son alone in the world.

No one knew exactly why the gang had left Naruto alive. Some thought it was simply because they five didn't know which baby was Uzumaki's. Others reasoned that it was to provide an example to future District Attorneys and the people of Konoha not to get too religious about running the gangs out of town.

Had it indeed been intended as a warning, it had been flatly ignored.

Minato had been a popular man. His tragic death and that of his wife, at the panicle of their success before gossip and slander could ruin their heroic images, had instantly elevated him to martyrdom.

Konoha had called for blood. Within a matter of days, Kyuubi had been utterly destroyed; its members dispersed, jailed, executed, or had simply…disappeared.

Unfortunately, just before the last of the hunted men had vanished, they had left Naruto Uzumaki with one last going away present.

The fire had made the front page of every major newspaper in Konoha. The Uzumaki's 5,000 square foot two story mansion had erupted in flames and had burned down to the ground within a matter of hours. Authorities had speculated that some preparations must have been made beforehand; otherwise, the fire department would've gotten to the fire and stopped it. But the way the house had gone up in flames, by the time the engines arrived all they could do was watch as the building collapsed in a ball of flame. Every single one of the 17 maids, butlers, nannies, and various other staff had burned along with every penny Minato Uzumaki had ever saved. Apparently, Naruto's biological father and mother had shared a distrust of banks and stashed all the money they had within the vault in their home, a surprising 1.1 million.

Naruto Uzumaki became a penniless, no account orphan that night; before he'd even left the hospital his third week of life.

He'd been turned in to the system then, cast into its ugly depths to be swept away with the torrent masses that made up the cold current of obscurity. He was housed in a government funded and thusly under-funded orphanage for slum kids; two block away from where his family's mansion had once stood.

And so he had lived that the orphanage, starving for attention, for any kind of attention. Until the day Iruka had come into his life.

He hadn't liked the brunette at first. He'd laughed the first time Iruka had come to visit him, called the young man a happy dolphin and stuck his tongue out at him, refusing to sit still and talk. After that, the blond had been certain that he'd stay at the orphanage for the rest of his life. He'd been so naughty and Iruka would tell everybody what a bad child he was, so now no one would want to adopt him.

To say that Naruto was surprised the following week when the 'happy dolphin' had come back to visit him, would have been the mother of all understatements. He'd been certain that he'd left the older man with a very bad taste in his mouth. But Iruka not only came back to visit Naruto every week, but brought the 12 year old a present ever time he came. The presents were nothing all that special, a Captain Kakashi blanket for his bed, a bright orange, blue, black and white thing that wasn't much to look at, but was incredibly warm. He also brought Naruto a weird beanie baby fox that was all red and had nine tails. They were nothing that expensive or fancy, but to a lonely orphan boy who'd had nothing of his own for as long as he could remember, they were they most exquisite treasures in the world. Naruto never told anyone, but he'd clutched that fox doll at night underneath his Captain Kakashi fleece and felt more cherished than he ever had in his life.

But the real surprise had come about eight months or so later on his thirteenth birthday.

Iruka had come to take him out for dinner, an awesome restaurant called 'The Kitsune'. It had been a popular pizza place with games and a play place in the back where the kids could run around and puck their guts out after they'd gorged themselves on pizza and soda. Of course Naruto had never heard of a Chucky-cheeses, so to him, this place was heaven on earth.

He'd eaten too quickly and immediately threw up the two and a half pizzas he'd consumed in an hour. Iruka had been beside him the whole time; both kneeling in the restaurant's brightly painted bathroom, his gentle hands on his shoulders, as the boy's body heaved time and time again. His voice, as calm and comforting as his hands, had murmured encouragements as Naruto's stomach had clenched in pain. It had been then, while Naruto was kneeling, his check pressed against the seat of the toilet after completely purging the contents of his stomach; that Iruka had told him.

The paperwork had been cleared a few days before. Naruto wouldn't be going back to orphanage; He was going to stay with Iruka from that time on, if he wanted to, that was.

The blond had smiled, uncertain really of what to do. He'd wanted to hug Iruka, to wrap his arms around the man's neck and hug him for all he was worth. Because for the first time in his life, Naruto felt like he might've been worth something to someone. For the first time in his life, the orphan felt like someone cared.

And the rest was history. They'd had their struggles; Naruto would be the first to admit that his own pig-headedness was at the root of most of their squabbles. But then, the boy also had a built-in excuse, being an orphan since birth that'd never had a normal relationship in his life or had any sort of authority figure to look up to. And he'd gotten both in Iruka Umino. And there had been the other…factor.

It had happened a few days after the blonds fourteenth birthday. Naruto had woken up in the middle of the night, his entire body on fire. It was as if each separate muscle he had had been cramping at the exact same time. The boy had tried to move, to stretch just like Iruka had told him to after he'd finished a good long run, but his limbs refused to respond. All the young boy could do was writhe in agony and scream out in that torment.

Iruka had burst in, Naruto had smelled his panic and fear. The boy hadn't had the presence of mind to wonder at his newfound keenness of smell and vision; for that too had grown sharper. Naruto had been nearly blinded when his foster father had flicked the bedroom lights on.

Eventually, the pain had subsided and the young blond had fallen into the deep sleep born of pure exhaustion. The next morning, or afternoon rather, Naruto had padded into the bathroom and gapped in horror at the image reflected in his mirror. His eyes had become a vicious red, the pupils black slits against the fiery backdrop. His scars had thickened and darkened, and when the blond had opened his mouth to scream, sharp canine teeth were bared to the light.

Of course, Iruka had never been a Father before Naruto, although, he'd thought that being a Middle School teacher would certainly help. And it probably would've, had Naruto been a normal child. As far as either of them could tell, Naruto had changed, become superhuman. The boy had remarkable recuperative capabilities, able to shrug off what would've hospitalized most Olympic athletes. The blond was also able to see clearly in the dark and could smell so acutely, he was able to sniff a dish once and name all of the ingredients used in it. He also had become faster, more flexible and much stronger. Unfortunately, this also had meant that Iruka had had to replace all of the doorknobs in the house and the silverware before Naruto got to know his own strength again.

The rest of Naruto's school experience was from inside the apartment or in the back of Middle school classrooms with a computer on his lap while Iruka taught. 'It was for his own safety.' The older man had assured his young charge. But they both knew that this was happening to protect those children who would've been Naruto's classmates.

But Iruka had tried, always he tried. Even when his young foster son was driving him literally to drink, he'd strived to show the blond how much he was loved and cherished.

He hadn't wondered when Naruto began to sneak out nights, not coming back until early the next morning. The man had simply asked if Naruto had been out partying and when the teen had said no, he'd moved on, leaving the blond a simple warning to be careful.

And Naruto hadn't been out drinking or smoking. He laughed when Iruka'd asked him; it wasn't like the blond actually knew anyone to go and do that stuff with. Instead, he'd gone out and trained. Little by little, he began to master his strange new powers. Until he felt he was ready.

And one night, darker than the rest, Kyuubi was born.

Naruto was sixteen, young and volatile and impatient. He'd declared war on all crime and had begun attacking anything that he could find when he went out at night. But fate had slated that the headstrong child be rejected once more. The city had branded him an outlaw and hunted him instead of the gangs. Finally, after four long years of on-again, off again hero work, Naruto was shot. They'd been waiting for him, dozens of members from three different rival gangs. They'd faked a drop off and when the blond had shown up, every single one had opened fire.

As far as the hospital had known, Uzumaki Naruto had been heading home from work and had been caught in a cross-fire, lucky to be alive. And Naruto had been lucky. Even his remarkable ablility to heal had been nearly unable to save him from the sheer number of bullets which had pelted his body. But, after a year of treatments and six months of tharopy, the blond had been released. But he was no longer the same reckless, force of will that he had been before the 'accident'.

Naruto smiled humorlessly. He ought to be flattered. After all, he was the one thing that all the gangs hated enough to actually join together to destroy.

And through the entire ordeal, Iruka had remained supportive. He'd visited his son every day. He'd helped with medical bills when Naruto's savings couldn't handle everything. He hadn't even asked why the day that Naruto left. He didn't ask for the reason the young man needed go with Jiraiya. The older man had simply frowned, hugged his son and bid him farewell, making sure that the blond knew that he would always have a home to come back to.

And now, two years later, after devoting himself fully to training and fighting, Naruto had returned; and to his disappointment, there wasn't much of a home left in Konoha…for anyone.

So he would do this, he would make a home again for the people of Konoha, for those he loved.

Love…Naruto sighed and ducked his head under the hot spray, allowing the water to cascade down his 'd been given plenty of affection by Iruka, his father. He'd received companionship and brotherly love from those who had become his friends.

But Naruto was still searching, still looking and pining for that elusive thing called love. He'd read the stories, he'd watched the movies, he'd heard about how people had found their one special person. He'd heard about true love and wished that it could happen to him. He was searching for that passion.

The blond shut off the taps and stepped out of the shower. He grabbed a towel which hung nearby and briskly rubbed himself dry; ruffling the moisture from his hair.

Plopping the now damp terrycloth into an overflowing cloths hamper, he trudged back to his bedroom just in time to hear his cell phone go off.

Picking up the infernal device, the blond flicked it open and held in to his ear.

"Hello."

"Naruto," The enthusiastic voice on the other end cried. "How are you doing you lazy ol' pile of shi-"

"What do you want Kiba?" Naruto grinned from ear to ear. A call from his canine loving co-worker was always enough to lift his spirits, even during the most intense bouts of contemplation.

"The old lady wants you to come in early." The man on the other end said, his voice apologetic. "Sai just quit."

The blond groaned and pushed a hand through his hair. "I don't know Kiba, I just got out of the shower, how early does she want me to come in?"

The silence on the other end was not a good omen.

"She needs you to open for the next two weeks."

"Kiba…" Naruto pinched the bridge of his nose, struggling to keep calm. "She does realize that I'm already closing for the next two weeks."

"She said you'd say that, and she also said that she'd give you a permanent dollar raise plus whatever overtime you will get already."

Naruto took a deep breath.

"She also said," Kiba continued. "That if you didn't, you'd have to find yourself another job."

"This is blackmail." The blond said sourly.

"She said to call it extortion." Kiba replied, a tad more cheerfully than Naruto would've preferred. He could almost swear that he could hear Tsunade laughing in the background.

"Fine," The man sighed. "I'll get there as soon as I can. That's the best I can do." He snapped the phone shut before Kiba could come up with anymore preplanned rejoinders.

He knew he'd have to get going soon. Despite the short notice, Naruto only lived a few blocks away from the café where he waited tables. And the blond really didn't feel like pushing his luck today; Tsunade's temper was renowned.

Pulling his dresser open, the blond shimmied into one of the few clean T-shirts he had left: an old, black thing with a red swirl emblazoned in the front. He'd picked up a pair of jeans from the floor after climbing into some fresh boxers.

With one last glance around his apartment, Naruto grabbed his keys, shoved his wallet into a back pocket and jammed on his sneakers.

After locking his door behind him, Uzumaki Naruto made his way down the five flights of stairs to the lobby and to the street below. He threaded his way through the crowd towards his job; and an adventure that he'd never even dreamed of.

Author's note: I haven't figured out how to get past the 15 story limit yet, but I'll find out.