Author's Notes I: Yeah, I'm done with the new chapter. You know, I would really appreciate it if cowards didn't choose to hide behind guest reviews and leave behind their shitty opinions. Okay, done with the rant. Now, before you start reading, this chapter is a bit more serious. The funny parts are there, but in shorter bits. That said, enjoy.

Sometimes I wish I did own Naruto. Then I could milk it for all its worth and laugh at the death threats from filthy shippers.

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Light faded, dark descended, night fell. Slowly, it stretched over the sky; an utter blackness mercilessly painting every corner of the heavens. The whispering woods froze in stark silence, the auburn taints of the setting sun disappeared, only dark remained. Opaque clouds follow suit, shrouding the full moon with its endless veils. With the howling winds they twisted, danced and shimmied. Once in a while they let pale moonlight wink through them and ushered in small specks to shine on what little ground it could—breadcrumbs to a path concealed. Myriad small creatures came out of wooden shelters; the endless trees were trusty houses that kept them safe. Their homes had braved storms, outstood floods and bested winter since it was created. Yet now, the children of this forest yelled and shrieked in horror, cried in fear and ran with desperation. Tiny luminous dots, akin to stars studded to the ground, guided them. It showed them a way out, to escape the spreading abyss that devoured their home whole.

He saw through the darkness clearly. A great portion of his life was spent here, loitering in the shadows, witnessing how the world failed to provide him a true answer. It was homely, this feeling of stillness. Watching the creatures run away made his red eyes narrow. A voice in his heart murmured, 'Any human would do the same.' His heart spoke true. The dark was, to them, the root of all things cruel, calamitous and cursed. He knew better.

Deep within the confines of the womb, a child was incepted. Slowly, the child would grow in size and strength, healthier and better. A lovely thought—nothing more beautiful than a new life in bloom. Yet more than often people overlooked a simple fact. The babes so protected by the flesh of their mothers from all the things outside that could harm them rested not in a place of light, but of dark. For months they would stay there, warm and homely and safe. When the time came to leave their homes, their true birthplace, the children would voice their refusal. The light was so . . . vicious. Upon first sight they would be blinded by it, every newborn would cry, wail and plead to go back to its home, where all the worries of the world couldn't reach them, where the light could never touch them.

Sooner than they knew, the child would grow, getting more accustomed to it. To the fancy delights it had, the sentimental candy floss, all the joys of life. They lived in the light, but the dark still lingered. Those who acknowledged their darkness eventually found a healthy balance, some more than others. Only fools in their blind folly believed in the light and all the false promises it brought. He sat on the pasture with his trusty cane, drinking in the silence. Never had the calm before the storm tasted so sweet. For he knew, all good things must come to an end. Just as darkness fell, he knew a new light would appear. An endless paradox this cycle was.

A pillar rose, shining in the darkness. Red, orange and yellow flames flew higher and higher. Spiraling and circling, they raced each other to see which was mightier. Then it exploded without warning. Great spheres of fire formed, hovering in the air, and then it all rained down. Crushing and destroying everything they touched, it danced wildly on barren grounds. Flames forged in hell sniffed out the prey—rabid hounds. They wanted to hunt, eradicate and leave behind nothing alive in their journey. Trees melted, wood smoldered into sludge. Leaves burned and turned into forgotten ashes. The ground scorched, soft earth faded to black. Cinders flew, dying embers of the forest slowly disappearing. Twigs snapped, leaves sizzled, and trees fell, their screams reached his ears. They were of the pain and anguish the forest suffered.

Just as the dark had come, the light fought back. Now the world around them was a bright shade of searing gold. As if the sun had been scavenged out of the sinking horizon's deep murky waters to bring back a glimmering hope and embossed into the sky. The impact of the jutsu had caused this. A destructive sight, most would agree. Even the hardest of men, with ice in their veins, would worry after witnessing this field of fire.

To Madara, however, this was downright insulting. Theatricality no doubt played into deception, shinobi talked smack and flashed fancy jutsu to intimidate their opponents. This was just distracting and begged for attention. 'He might as well go to Iwa, yell "Fuck the Hidden Stone" and be done with it.' Maybe Ōnoki wouldn't mind. The Fence Sitter knew how to gobble shit. Display aside, the jutsu came up short. For one, the smoke from the burning residue was thin. It should've made him keel over and gag like a whore with three throbbing cocks shoved down her throat. The fallout didn't exist at all, soot was imperative to the after-effect. Compared to this bonfire, Madara could show what 'Hell on Earth' looked like with lesser time.

"Madara-sama," Shiro emerged from the ground beside him. "The storm will start soon." True to his words, the dark clouds were glittering gold. White wisps of lightning flashed in the skies, thunder followed.

"I noticed," he replied and slowly took his time to get up. His old hip betrayed him with every passing day. Fingers trembled despite his strong grip. At last he stood, proud and tall and . . . in pain. He didn't voice it, Uchiha never show their weaknesses. When they did a lot of people died. Perhaps karma wanted to play a joke. He did look down on Ōnoki for his old age.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Madara lied. Red eyes glanced around the area. "Has anyone noticed?"

"Nope!" The White Zetsu cheered. "The seals are holding up just fine, Madara-sama. Naruto-sama is so good at them I think he might be the bestest, most greatest, fantasticaste-"

"Call him back," Madara ordered. He was not in the mood for hearing one of Shiro's absurdly long praise sessions. "I don't want the idiot doing something stupider when it starts."

"Will do!" The Uchiha regretted his decision almost immediately. "NARUTO-SAMA!"

'Perhaps this is all a nightmare,' he still often told himself. Even now, after more than a year had passed since the incident, Uchiha Madara still felt this was an illusion. His other self's life certainly didn't agree. The dreams had finally stopped six months ago. They were too much to bear at times, especially at his age. More lightning crackled, more thunder boomed, and his patience drew to a close. "I'll be going inside. Tell the fool-"

"Tell me what?"

Madara turned around, "That you're going to cause more disturbances the storm." The young man before laughed off the jape, seeing an Uchiha laugh so casually was still a wonder to him. His clan wasn't uptight as the rest of the world saw them. They were more pragmatic. Uchiha in general had a low tolerance for bullshit and idiocy and stupidity—all three abundant in the person before him. It was like staring into a mirror. An inferior cheaply made mirror.

The man of dark raven hair, unruly and wild, was tied into a high ponytail. Apparently the boy didn't appreciate his hair getting dirty. Madara's hair was often filled with grime and blood, that's why it stayed so silky. He wore clothes befitting of an Uchiha and certainly looked the part. Sadly, he could not say the same for his 'grandson's' behavior.

"Calm down already," the boy waved him off. "No need to get so worried about me."

"I wasn't worried," Madara explained. "You staying out here in a storm would give me a headache." He started walking back towards the cave, the secret path was short and blocks of earth rose from the ground as seals appeared around them. Glancing to his right, he saw the blue eyed Uchiha already do with his hand seals. 'He's gotten faster.' Walking down the stairs with the two of them, the gate closed behind them. The torches below were lit and the journey was silent. For the first thirty-five seconds.

"So," the young Uchiha drawled the word out. "What'd you think? It was pretty awesome, right?"

"In terms of consuming chakra and acting like a beacon for your enemies, then yes." Madara heard him grumble. "I do not doubt the power of your jutsu, the main hassle lies in executing it. Enemies aren't going to give you fifteen seconds to plan it out. Flashy jutsu will take you so far. Shinobi should be swift and subtle."

"That's rich coming from a guy who basically conjures up a mountain sized ghost samurai." He whined. "Subtle my-"

"It's called a battle avatar, halfwit," Madara shot back, his voice still calm. He didn't want to be lectured by a boy on subtlety; Susanoo was meant to make his enemies soil their pants. "You had one before, still have one and you can't even get the term right." Naruto was an idiot. Perhaps a bigger idiot than Hashirama, something he never thought possible. The only saving grace in all this was that Naruto was not a Senju. Had he been . . . Madara shuddered at the thought. The Uchiha sent out his prayers to whatever being that was out there for avoiding such a tragedy. The boy was blabbering again.

"And that's why it works." Naruto Uchiha finished. His 'grandson' was strange. Brash, loud, honest to a fault, all the qualities Madara despised in a shinobi. Yet, the former Uzumaki had dashed all his thoughts, all the pictures he had regarding what a ninja should be. How many former enemies had he turned to his side with that silver tongue of his? "Maybe," Naruto scratched his chin. "Maybe you're just jealous. I mean, the first Hokage had a massive wooden Buddha with 1000 arms. Does your Susanoo have 1000 arms?"

Madara stopped in his tracks. Dark eyes grew cold. "Hashirama had Mokuton. Do you know what it was like fighting him?"

Naruto smiled. "Actually, I do."

"Good then you know how much he made the environment play to his strengths. Entire fields became death traps, forests that breathed poison, wooden dragons sneaked about beneath the earth."

"Yeah," Naruto's smile didn't fade. "Still doesn't change the fact he beat you two to one. You only got one over him after you got the Rinnegan. No wonder people call him the God of Shinobi."

"Boy," Madara began. "The only reason Hashirama is known in every nation is because of me. I pushed his limits, made him reach new levels. If it wasn't for me, Senju Hashirama would be sitting at home as a nobody with a stupid bowl cut and an even stupider family. I made him the God of Shinobi. His legends exist because he fought me. Without me he would've been just another Senju."

"Dear Log," Naruto sighed. "You're still hung about him becoming Hokage aren't you?"

Madara did not dignify that with a response. It wasn't worth the effort. This 'grandson' of his tested his patience more than the entire Senju Clan. At least they wanted to kill him. Naruto didn't even harbor hostile intent towards him, going so far as to blindingly trusting Madara despite all their history. It was madness, madness and stupidity. The large boulders before their path resonated, great grey stones parted sideways showing a tunnel. He could hear the storm raging above the ground this far down.

"Your fire caused that nimbus cloud to form in the coming storm," Madara reasoned. Perhaps the flames were hotter than he deemed.

"Hell yeah," the brat beamed up. "You should know better than to underestimate me."

"Doing that is impossible. Every time you open your mouth you prove you're a hopeless, belligerent fool."

"Yeah, well," he paused. "At least I don't throw world-enslaving tantrums." Both were striding towards the main hall beneath Mountain Graveyard, Madara's home for the last fifty years, give or take. The mountain itself was ravenous to scale, then came the unnatural biting cold. It was always colder here. Perhaps this place was cursed, just like his fate. "Do you want some soup?"

It was habitual at this point, Naruto asking him what he'd like to eat especially in this weather. Rain and wind hammered their home from all sides the echoes of the storm reached deep within, and he enjoyed this: the sounds that came. Madara had a fondness for the rain. As a child he found it hopeful. The rains from above came down and washed away the blood that soaked the lands.

"Are you going to make some regardless of my answer?" Naruto nodded. "Then, yes."

"See you in a bit," he cheerfully walked away and Madara stared at his retreating back. The Uchiha went back to his own room and rested on the seat. His bones were getting older. Had it not been for the Sharingan he would've gone blind perhaps. His room used to be dimly lit with fewer candles and torches. Naruto insisted on more lighting since he didn't want this place to be 'dark and gloomy'.

He didn't have to wait too long. Naruto came in with two cups, the Zetsu followed with a cup of his own. Madara took the mug and the smell of pork, broth, and other delectable vegetables all cooked well. Naruto had limited skills in the kitchen, but for a man who lived alone it was enough. Thinly sliced piece of pork were savory and crisp, the miso seasoning complemented it.

When he was almost done, Madara stopped. Naruto and Shiro were talking about what the Zetsu had seen recently. Being a spy was the main reason it existed. He often wondered what this Madara achieved by stealing Hashirama's flesh. Yes, he had Mokuton, albeit weaker, but outside of that he saw no gains. The Rinnegan wasn't awakened by this one. 'The Stone Tablet was tampered with here too. Does this mean Black Zetsu exists here as well?'

"What're you thinking about?" Naruto asked him, done with his own share. Madara finished his own cup and placed it on the desk beside him.

"The past," Madara said, "the present, the future. You're sure you never found Black Zetsu here?"

"Not a trace," Naruto replied, even he seemed bitter. "Shiro's been searching for him for a long time. He's not getting in here though. I made sure of it."

He remained quiet for a while before he felt a rising pain in his chest. He coughed and cursed in his mind. He felt weak. This shear in his heart reminded him of Hashirama's death blow, both were excruciating. A warm feeling began to spread through him. Naruto's hands were near his chest, glowing pale green, healing him. The pang lessened further before disappearing. Madara nodded, heavy breathes now calmer and shorter.

"You're getting worse with each day," Naruto said.

"What genius observation skills you have."

"And snarkier," he continued. His brows furrowed with concern. It was amusing to watch. "We should really get someone to check you out. If this keeps up-"

"I'll be fine as I've always been," Madara cut him off. "I didn't survive wars to die at the hands of some common disease." Thrice he'd died. Not many men could claim that. First was when he buried Izuna, the last member of his family—becoming truly alone. The second time came when Hashirama stabbed him during their battle. The last one: he severed his connection from the Gedo Statue. It had left a bad taste in his mouth. He was Uchiha Madara: a warrior. Dying of old age seemed so foreign to him. He never expected to live this long either.

"Look, old man," Naruto spoke, bringing him back to the room. "I know you think you're going to get better, but I don't share that thought. Besides, you're pretty damn stubborn."

"And you're not?"

"Touché," Naruto shrugged. "I used to think that way too. Then someone much wiser than me gave me the best advice of my life."

"Who?"

"Uchiha Itachi," Naruto smiled. Madara's only memories of Naruto went as far as the former's death. Right up to the point where Itachi made his grandson swallow a crow whole. The blonde girl had fortified his mind well; Madara knew about Naruto's life 'till his fight with Pein, everything afterwards was hazy and came in bits and pieces.

"And what advice did that kin slaying weasel give you?"

Naruto frowned, but let the matter drop. "He told me to forgive myself for things I can't do alone. I can't control everything and be everywhere at the same time. He said if want to know me, the real me, I need to accept the fact that I can't do everything alone. That's what friends, comrades and loved ones are for, they fill those gaps," he paused, clenching his fist. "Itachi said he failed with himself in that regard, and he'd been deceiving himself ever since."

"I'm surprised you remembered a lesson like that," Naruto laughed a bit. "And you want me to what? Accept that I'm old? That I'm weak? That I've been wrung from my reality, placed into this vessel who looks, thinks, and almost lived the same life as mine? I've already accepted that fact."

"No," Naruto came forward. "I need you to let me help you."

"I'm fine, boy," Madara wanted to look away from the damned honesty in his eyes.

"Geez, old man. Why do you have to be such a pain in the ass?"

Madara scoffed at the crude term. "You think I wanted this? I had a goal in my life: peace. Later, I find out that Black Zetsu was never my will to begin with. My entire dream was built on a lie." The memory of the other Zetsu turning traitor was vivid. It was cruel to watch. "I'm Uchiha Madara. Nothing will ever change that." He didn't bother hiding the venom in his voice.

"It doesn't have to be that way."

"Spare me your pity," Madara continued. The storm outside bellowed louder. Successive waves of rain battered the mountain. Winds thrashed wildly against the walls, like whips scarring flesh.

"Then why are you helping me?" Naruto asked, his voice grew louder as his eyes shone a wicked red. "You could've left me to my own devices, or poisoned me. You had a lot of chances, but you didn't. Why?"

"Do you remember what I told you?" Madara began. There was a small pain in his harm, nothing too great though. "Without purpose life has no meaning; I have none. Killing you has no merit."

"Okay. Why'd you help me with my training?" the boy continued. "I have your memories, your knowledge and know every damn thing that you do."

"The only reason I helped you is because you carry my blood," the Ghost clarified. "Any other person would do the same for their own." Madara felt a hand on his shoulder, the grip was gentle.

"Stop lying to yourself," Naruto smiled sadly. "I can't argue with you anymore, old man. I'm tired."

"That makes two of us," Madara removed his hand. "You don't need to worry about me, boy."

"I know, but I can't help it." The Uchiha ignored the wistful tone. "This sounds weird, but I really don't want you to get sick or something. You're kinda the only person I have left from . . . you know." The White Zetsu looked confused. Madara understood his words; he too shared that silly sentiment.

Madara sighed. The storm outside was finally showing signs of stopping. "Do you know why shinobi are told to keep their emotions in check?"

"So the mission does not get compromised."

"And there's a good reason why those who are close are rarely put into the same regiment." Madara continued. "Love is the death of duty. One of the first things we were taught. Then there's you, a complete mockery of that saying."

"Oi," Naruto scowled. The boy was not amused, Madara was. "You don't have to be an ass about it."

"A boy who spouts his ideals loudly, lets his emotions get the better of him, and making sure your decision stays on top—everyone else's opinions be damned," the Uchiha saw the boy smirking. He was proud. "You're worse than Hashirama."

"Meh," Naruto rubbed his nose, blue eyes shone with mischief. "You know you love me."

"I'm tired. Get out, now," Madara said, he wasn't feeling that well. Every passing day he found himself sleeping in more.

"Let me help you," the old Ghost didn't refuse and let him guide him to his bed. "You're getting frailer every day."

"I noticed," Madara replied and slowly got into bed. The damned pillows were softer now. There was a slight chill in the air, Naruto wisely pulled up his sheets for him. The boy bid him goodnight and was leaving. Madara wasn't done. "Wait."

"Yeah?" Naruto came back and looked curious. Madara looked at the boy with some pride; he had trained him after all. "Do you need to take a shit?" Madara was proud no longer.

"Boy," he breathed in. His chest felt lighter. "What do you intend to do?"

"What?"

He sighed. Naruto was dense, so dense that Madara was sure that light bended around him. "You're going to have a life outside this mountain. I'm sure taking care of an old man was not on your list."

"I don't mind really," Naruto grinned. "It's a heck of an experience. The best part about all this is you don't wear a diaper. Cause if you did, oh boy."

"I'm trying to have a serious conversation."

"I am serious," the boy relented. "You don't know how ugly things get beneath those white shit-guard pants. Babies are one thing, but elderly people with their wrinkly asses and-"

"Moving on," Madara cut him off. He did not want such an image in his mind. "What do you intend to do? Go back to the Leaf?"

"Eventually," Naruto admitted. He sat on the bed. The boy had gotten taller again. "It is home." The boy's affectionate tone was not lost on him. Reminded him of simpler times.

"Is being Hokage that important to you?" Madara asked. He had to fix the boy's mind and set him on a straight path. Not the path Madara chose, not the path Hashirama chose, but a path of his own. Free from all the shackles their age had cuffed on countless people.

"Being the Hokage is all I've ever wanted to be," Naruto spoke. His eyes were staring off into a different time, a different world. "It's been the one thing I've always wanted to be."

"The goal is admirable," the thought choked him. Perhaps Naruto's own views had softened his, but not swayed them. "I can understand why you would want to be Hokage. Adoration, acknowledgement, acclamation—things we all strive for."

"Yeah, I didn't know what it was like until I beat Pein. Of course, you already know that."

"Yes, then what?"

"Pardon?"

"Let's say you become Hokage, here," Madara pointed out. The boy nodded. "Then what? You stay stuck behind a desk, signing papers, assigning missions, keeping the peace. I believe that's the gist of it."

"Well, yeah," Naruto said after some time.

"Then what?" The Uchiha continued. "You become Hokage. Now you get to wear the silly hat. Now what's your purpose?"

"To keep all the villagers safe and-"

Madara laughed. How many years had it been since he laughed out of sheer amusement? "You can do that without becoming Hokage. Your master, Jiraiya, did that." The boy did not reply, he was searching for answers. "Before you start, I want to ask you something. Can you give an honest answer?"

"Duh," came the intelligent reply. "Hit me with your best shot."

Madara sighed. "What would you do if your precious Hokage told you to go kill your mother?" The only sound in the room came from Zetsu who gasped and the rain, finally dying, letting the vestiges of its final drops leave a lasting impression. "What if he commanded you to bring your father's head? Told you to slaughter innocent children because of their parents' sins? Or assigned you to murder your own offspring for the village?" The Ghost sunk into the bed. "Now, imagine yourself giving that order to someone to do the same."

"I . . ." the boy spoke no further. "You're trying to mess with me."

"If I wanted to manipulate you I would've started a long time ago. You're not as smart as you think," he explained. "You're a grown man, a strong one too. The strongest are left with the greatest burdens because they can bear it. Look no further than Itachi. Duty and loyalty is good, no doubt. Just make sure it doesn't kill what's important to you."

"Go to sleep, old man," Naruto got up. "We'll talk later tomorrow."

The footfalls were long and heavy in the eerie silence. Madara, however, was not done. "Don't make the same mistakes Itachi did, boy." The Ghost counseled him. He paused for a moment as Naruto stood at the gate. "Don't make the mistakes I did either."

"I'm not you."

"No, you're not," Madara agreed. "You're Uchiha Naruto." The door closed and Madara saw Shirou rise up from the ground. The white Zetsu looked afraid.

"Are you two going to argue again, Madara-sama?" the thing asked timidly.

"No, I'm tired of arguing with him." Hopefully it would be his last one. "Go on." The White Zetsu nodded and bid him good-night before melting into the ground. Madara shuffled around in his bed, choosing to lie on his right side.

Sleep came quickly as he began to yawn. Eyelids grew heavy with fatigue and it got darker. 'I do hope that foolish boy comes to his senses quick enough. Righteous people are always the first to die.' Madara thought about the boy, the emotions of the Madara who had a family and loved them played into it as well. He cared about the boy, much more than he should've. The still feeling settled in, the one right before he fell asleep, and Madara allowed the darkness to take him.

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"Pay attention, brother," the ground beneath his feet disappeared. He felt himself clashing with the earth. Getting up he heard his brother's chortle, He's getting cockier. "Well, this is a sight to behold."

"You got lucky," he replied, hiding the pride in his voice. Izuna had come a long way.

"Sure," Izuna offered him a hand and Madara took it. The training grounds of the Uchiha clan were always a pleasant view; green lands littered with shuriken. "You seemed distracted. Care to tell me why?"

"I remembered a dream."

"A dream?" Izuna's chuckle was not lost on him. His brother had always been more loquacious than him. "The last time you had one, I nearly died. Do be careful, brother. I don't want a Senju taking your head."

"It will be a cold day in hell before that happens."

"Tobirama could," He didn't bother hiding the scowl. Tobirama, the prick. The Senju had a holier-than-thou air about him. Every time he saw him Madara felt the urge to burn something—preferably him. "I heard his technique makes him too fast to be seen, even with our Sharingan. Flying Thunder God he calls it. He might just catch you off guard, that's his usual M.O."

"Flying Idiot is what he should call it," Madara said. "Tobirama on his best day couldn't be the dirt on my shoe. I wonder if he truly is Hashirama's brother." Yes, that made more sense. Perhaps Senju Butsuma had strolled into a whorehouse after a bloody day, giving into the temptations of the flesh and sired a bastard. Annoying as Hashirama was he didn't put himself on a high pedestal, courtesy of his own stupidity. The white haired Senju on the other hand, he probably couldn't go a day without someone praising him. 'Oh Senju-sama! Wow! So cool! Such speed! Much water!' He decided there and then, the next time he would see Tobirama, Madara would declare him a bastard and cause a rift between the brothers.

"Well if he isn't, shame on them," Izuna and Madara walked before sitting down on the ground. Each brother took a flagon of water and relishing in the drink. Summers were hot, yet the sun was merciful today. Not glaring down upon the lesser ants which roamed the world. "So, that dream of yours, spill it."

Madara chuckled a bit. "It was strange."

"How so?"

"I grew old," Madara took another swig. His throat felt dryer than usual. "Even had a family; a wife, two sons and a grandson. Can you imagine that?"

"Doesn't seem far-fetched," his brother shrugged. "Didn't you ever think of having one?"

Madara remained quiet. "Look," Izuna followed his sight. Butterflies, black and yellow and red, all danced together in the air. Then another one came, bright blue its' wings were and seemed the most excitable among them. "I never saw a blue one before."

"I saw a few once," Izuna got up as the small winged creatures flew further and further away. "Did you like it? Your dreamy family?"

"They were family," Madara said. Coal eyes looked up at the bright blue skies. White clouds drifted like slowly. It was perfect.

"You didn't answer my question."

"I suppose I did," he admitted. "The grandson needed work. Stupid, bold and impulsive, the boy was annoying."

"What was his name?" Izuna asked.

"Naruto."

"Well, at least his name wasn't Tobirama."

Madara retched at the thought. Who in their right minds would name their children with that burden? Only baseborn were deserving of that name, the runt of the litter. "I suppose you're right."

"Well, let's go then," Izuna started walking. "Father and the others are waiting for you."

"Where are they right now?" Madara asked, seemingly forgetting where he was supposed to go. It was a strange feeling.

Uchiha Izuna, his younger brother, smiled, "Home."

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Sweat poured down his frame as he dug out earth. Using a jutsu would've been easier, but that was not his way. Had someone told him that he would wake up to find Madara dead in his sleep he would've laughed. This, however, was no joke. Last night's words were still fresh on his mind. He had several arguments with Madara before, last night one's while lighter did eat up his sleep. Guilt gripped him as well. 'I should've known something was up.' He jumped out of the grave. The experience was strange to him.

This was the first time he'd done this, and the person he would be burying was a former enemy, with whom he shared blood no less. Naruto didn't know how he felt about this whole damned thing. A part of him was sad, yet another part wasn't surprised. One thing was sure: he didn't want the old man to die.

Now, he was alone. Madara's old memories amplified this hollow sensation. While he couldn't say he dearly loved the man despite their ties, but he didn't hate him either. Madara had done enough to help him with his training, despite not needing to. Counseled him wisely, pointed out his flaws and everything one could do for their grandson. Or so Naruto thought, he never had one before.

"Naruto-sama," Shirou said, "He's ready." The clones were done wrapping Madara's body with clean white clothes. The Zetsu was misty-eyed and had loudly cried when he saw Madara not waking up anymore. Naruto walked to the corpse now garbed in white. The old skin wrinkled further, his body rigid as stone, and a peaceful look on his face. He looked content, just as Neji did. He picked up the frail body, placing it into the coffin and sliding it shut.

He carried the coffin towards the grave. The small walk seemed longer than he thought. Gently, he buried it into the ground. Blue eyes turned red as he seared the image into his mind. This was the one inevitable fate Madara had told him about: death. Shovel in hand he started heaping pounds of earth on to the white coffin, staining it brown. "What would you do if your precious Hokage told you to bring your mother's head?"

The words bothered him still. It piled up soon and using the flat side, he molded the earth into a more suited shape. There were four other graves beside it. Naruto buried Madara next to his wife, Uzumaki Haruhi. Next to her were her sons, Izuna and Indra, along with the latter's wife Narukami Tsukihime—Uchiha Naruto's parents.

From the diaries Uchiha Naruto kept he learned a great deal about his 'parents'. Gentle and kind, strong and witty, Indra was considered a disappointment to his father's legacy. Watching his older brother drowning in hatred, blood and combat, which lead to Izuna's death, molded him into a pacifist. His mother, Tsukihime, came from Getsugakure; a soft-spoken woman with a weak body, birthing her only son had taken a great deal out of her. Then, Iwa scouts had found them. Thinking his father to be an Uchiha spy placed in foreign lands they killed the couple, with young Naruto witnessing it and awakened the Mangekyō.

He dreamed sometimes, of a life where he did not speak without purpose, did not smile as much, and always strived for power. Uchiha Naruto was a broken child, one who played with shuriken and swords in the shadows. His only purpose was to grow stronger, to spit back in the face of the world and all those who came for his happiness. Naruto simply accepted he was both. He was Uzumaki Naruto the man who banded all the nations together; he was Uchiha Naruto who so tainted by hatred had sought strength for his own happiness. Was it a crime to be selfish? To be happy? The reborn Uchiha had found those words time and time again in the little black book.

"Naruto-sama," Shirou paused, struggling to find the right words. "Will you be leaving?"

He sighed and ruffled the Zetsu's green hair who was sitting with a somber look. Innocent as a child this one was. Reminded him of Konohamaru when the brat was younger. "In a few days."

"What will I do 'till then?" the Zetsu asked with determination. "Do I go and kill some shinobi? Get some reinforcements? Build an army? Start a nation and-"

"None of that," Naruto sat down beside him. "I want you to keep this place safe, and look for Black Zetsu when you can."

"I never found anyone like this guy," the plant-being continued. "Even in the Hidden Rain." Shirou's stealth was terrifying. This being raped the very definition of privacy.

"Still keep an eye out," Naruto insisted looking at the graves. One day he too would be six feet under. Only his deeds and legacy would remain. He had none, not here at least. Staying away from the Leaf was getting to him and the old man dying had removed the last bit holding him back. "I'll be going back to the Leaf."

"Can I come with you?"

"No, Shirou," the white Zetsu pouted. Naruto chuckled a bit. He needed that. "I need someone I can trust to keep guard here. Don't want some stupid necromancer coming in here, and besides, I can visit any time I want."

"Oh yeah!" Shirou snapped his fingers in realization. "You have that flash thingy."

"Yes." Naruto got up and stood near Madara's grave. "Go and hunt something down, Shirou. We'll be making lunch soon." Shirou did not need to be told twice. He took a bit of the earth in his hand before dropping it on the grave. Like sands of time in an hourglass it fell crumbling.

"Thank you," Naruto spoke. "I never actually said that to you. Always wanted to, but things never go the way anybody wants it to." His hand traced across the grave. "Don't worry about me, old man," he said, eyes stung a bit. "I'll kinda miss you though."

||xXxXx—HNSWH—xXxXx||

The forests of Land of Fire were considered sacred by some, lauded by others, worshiped by a few. From there a small cult was born. When shinobi of the Leaf began using the Kawarimi a craze began. Men with wooden chains around their necks and wooden earrings and wooden armbands roamed the lands, each of them carried a log with them, praising its uses and spreading the rave. "PRAISE THE LOG," they shouted in the face of their foreign enemies, for the Log had saved them one times too many.

Naruto never cared much for it, until he too saw the light. The Log was, for all purposes, the closest thing to a safety insurance a shinobi could ever have. Weapons being thrown at you? Kawarimi. Somebody going to hit you with a jutsu? Kawarimi! A man garbed in leather about to explore your holiest of holies? KAWARIMI! The last one was a bit stretched out, but Jiraiya once told him how his anal virginity had been saved by the Log from a man who was far too pretty and touchy. Then again, his old master had been one for bizarre adventures. He still remembered their trip to the Land of Fangs where he had his first, followed by the others. Finally, he remembered Tsunade.

A giggle escaped his lips as he remembered her bare form. He slapped himself ridding himself of such thoughts. "You're walking through a forest, Naruto. Stop thinking about naked women," he told himself. The woods were menacing to look at. Great trees with twisted branches and indents that resembled horrific faces glared at him. The First Hokage had supposedly shaped them to instill fear in enemies. Madara told him that Hashirama wanted to try his hand at sculpting. A for effort though.

Terrifying shrubbery aside, Konoha was not that far. Five days Naruto had been travelling, hiding his face with a hood and used discretion on every turn—going so far as to sealing the Gunbai. He had discarded the hood since he came here, his true home was a few miles away and anxiety built up. Naruto wasn't the brightest, he knew that. However, he was no fool either. There would be problems once he entered the village, imprisonment possibly one of them. His face was a dead give-away to who he was, and he only prayed that his home was still the one he remembered.

Hope brewed within him still, a fire that could not be stamped out. The sounds of crickets and other wildlife were like music to his ears. The moon was bright tonight and the path was clear. He hummed a tune and walked casually. If he was lucky there would be a party up ahead that would escort him to the village. He breathed in the fresh smell and sighed in contentment. Madara's death made him a bit mellow.

Footfalls reached his ears and he narrowed his eyes. A group was heading towards him. They were all but sprinting. Six of them in total, all of them had healthy chakra levels. The largest of them felt restrained, at war with itself. 'Please be Konoha shinobi,' he kept chanting in his mind. He did not want to fight at the moment. Then they came and stood across him. They wore no headbands, but their clothes betrayed them. Large muscly dudes, white vests, and, well, two of them were dark-skinned. Deep within his heart he felt ashamed for even assuming that.

"Who are you?" One of them asked, he was probably the leader. They were on guard, all of them. In their midst, Naruto's eyes caught something unique: someone much smaller than them, a head shorter than him perhaps, had a black bag over their head. She was female no doubt as his eyes went lower.

"Um," Naruto smartly began. He had two choices: stop them or let them pass. This wasn't his business. Absolutely not. Then he heard the muffled yells coming from them. 'Oh fuck me and my hero complex.' He could just see Madara condescendingly shaking his head in disappointment from his grave. "Look, we're all humans and we should all get along. So-"

"He looks like an Uchiha."

"Did you just cut me off?" Naruto asked as they began to discuss, loudly.

"He's from the village. We should kill him."

"Or take him hostage."

"Are you ignoring me?" his annoyance grew with each word. The sounds of weapons clanking irritated him further. "Oh for fuck's sake," Naruto scoffed as two of them rushed him. He growled in annoyance as the blades missed his face by inches. 'Well they did try drawing first blood, so . . .'

Swerving back, he drew a kunai from his own pouch before stabbing one of them in the eye. The man fell on his knees, screaming as blood leaked from the kunai metal piercing his head. Naruto caught the fist of the other man aiming for his face before twisting it and swiped his foot across the man's face, the sound of bones snapping flinched the rest. Grabbing the head of the one experiencing a discount lobotomy, he drove it into the ground. His kunai emerged from the backside of the now very dead Kumo shinobi's head.

Lightning rushed at him and Naruto jumped in the air, narrowly missing it. The fourth one got close, grabbed Naruto's arm and twisted it across his back. Imitating the reflexes of a stripper he'd once seen, he went under the legs of the shinobi and made him fall on the ground. It was too sudden and unexpected. He didn't waste time, the axle of his foot collided with the man's nose, blue sandals now darkened with red stains. The man went into shock and was about to scream, but Naruto lodged a kunai deep into his throat. He stared at the man who was about to use his jutsu again, 'Idiot.' Red eyes trapped him in a world of burning flesh and hallowed screams, the man himself shook violently before Naruto littered his face, throat and chest with shuriken, each digging deep through the flesh as they hissed and spun.

"I hate it when people cut me off," Naruto said turning around, Sharingan on, and two shuriken in his hand. "Ignoring me is damn right annoying. Hey! Look at me when I talk to you."

"Fuck you!" the man yelled in terror, his eyes didn't move away from his blood tattered sandals which he would have to clean now. He missed Shirou. "I'm not looking in your fucking eyes."

"I assure you they are very pretty to look at," Naruto said with a smile and more muffles came from the bag over the woman's head. "See, she agrees."

"Shut up!" The man held a kunai to her throat and kneed her in the back, making her arch in pain. Naruto narrowed his eyes. A deep rage embroiled in the red irides. "I'll kill her, I swear to Kumo. Close your fucking eyes!"

'I could try that,' it was a gamble, but one he was willing to play. If it didn't, all his plans would go straight to hell. "Alright. Just calm down, fuck boy." Hearing the man bristle was satisfying and Naruto shut his eyes. "There, I closed it. Samurai's honor."

Naruto felt the man's eyes on him. He could still smell the fear on him. "Throw away your shuriken."

"Are you sure?" Naruto asked, his right hand slowly rising as the two small weapons rested between his fingers. "I sorta like these."

"Throw it away or I kill this bitch!"

"What crawled up your ass today?" Naruto muttered before clenching his fist. Small winds gathered at around them and he hurled them to his right side. "There. You happy?"

"Put your fucking hands where I can see them."

"Tsk, tsk," Naruto raised his arms in surrender. "That's not what you should be saying, my very knife-happy friend."

"What?"

"That's more like it," Naruto could tell the man was confused. He breathed in and his face darkened with seriousness. He pointed at the Kumo shinobi with one finger. "Omae wa mou shindeiru."

"What?" he said and Naruto waited . . . and waited. He waited further and nothing happened. The hostage was saying something incoherent. The reborn Uchiha felt like hiding his face in shame.

"Oh you have just got to be kidding me," Naruto muttered in annoyance. He'd been practicing this for months. All of it went down the drain. "You know what? Just kill me on general principle. Can't believe I messed up with the time on that one."

"What-"

SHING

Metal rotated wildly, the man screamed as Naruto heard flesh being torn apart and opened his eyes. The shuriken had torn straight through his head, bits of his brain were lying around and his face looked disgusting. One eyeball had exploded, the other one looked as if Akamaru had chewed on it before throwing it away, tongue was hanging out, flopping like a fish and red juice everywhere. Not a pretty sight, Naruto would've admired the impact behind his attack had it not been mistimed. "Well at least there were no witnesses to my failure. Forgive me pop-culture, I failed you." The hostage's moans told him otherwise.

"Oh right," Naruto walked over to her, the young woman was sitting on her knees. Hands tied behind her aback and a bit of red on her yellow, dirtied battle kimono. He was not a pervert like Jiraiya, no. He had a healthy admiration for the opposite sex, like every straight full-blooded man did, but he could not take his eyes off her once he removed the hood.

Her face was beautiful; fair-skinned, dazzling violet eyes and full lips, the lower one bleeding a bit. However, nothing caught his eyes more than her hair. Long, luscious, silky, the crimson tresses trailed down from her head to her waist. "Whoa," he said admiring her locks with his own hands, mesmerized by them. "Wow . . . you have really pretty hair, you know." The girl mumbled something and Naruto removed the gag, forgetting that she was still bound. He went back and cut the ones tied around her arms as well, her perfect skin was marred by markings.

"Are you alright?" he asked, not looking at her as something else caught his eyes. She was around his age, perhaps younger. Yet, her figure was more . . . full. More mature than those of his generation. 'Stop perving out you lech,' he told himself before he saw her legs. Black stocking came up to her rich, creamy thighs. 'Thigh highs are my demise.'

"Thank you," her voice was tired, yet sweet.

"It's alright," Naruto said, a bit loudly mostly to make sure she didn't notice where his eyes were going. A whole year without sex was getting to him and then this crimson haired girl popped out of nowhere. God was cruel to him. "So are you okay?"

"You're an Uchiha," she said, suspicion present in her voice. "I've never seen you in the village."

"Well," Naruto shrugged. Some clouds were blocking the bright moonlight. "I wasn't born in the Leaf, but I am heading there though. I could give you a ride."

"I can walk," she got up and groaned in pain, touching her back. She fell on one knee and Naruto did the same, getting closer. "Son of a bitch kicked me too hard."

"If it's any consolation, his head was never in the right place." Much to his surprise she chuckled a bit.

"You're funny."

"I try to be," Naruto admitted. "Offer's still up." She glared at him, giving him 'the look'. "I'm not an enemy. If I was I wouldn't bother saving you."

"Don't get too touchy," she said and Naruto picked her up in a bridal carry. "You could've taken me on your back."

"Yeah, but that'd probably put too much pressure on your arms given how swollen they are," Naruto admitted as he walked a bit before jumping up on a tree. Each step was now a leap from branch to branch, leaves rushed past them as he picked up his speed. "Other than that, I don't mind carrying a beautiful woman like this." Oh, Jiraiya would be proud of him.

"I'm not," she mumbled, her face closer to his chest as the clouds still shadowed the area.

"You are," Naruto countered. He frowned a bit. "Did no one ever tell you that?"

"Only those close to me, like they're supposed to," the redhead said. He looked down to see her frowning as well. "And stop making small talk. I'm not your friend. You're just saying this to gain my trust. Even called my stupid hair pretty. I look like a stupid tomato like everyone else says."

"Bullshit." Naruto halted his pace and stood on a great branch. He looked down at her with a grin, "Your hair isn't stupid. It's really beautiful. Seriously, I could stare at it all day." The girl's face darkened, her cheeks flushed and she looked away. God, she was cute. They said nothing more on the way, but the rigidness in her body language decreased as they got closer. She was more relaxed and he ignored the urge to shiver as her arms locked around his neck.

"I almost forgot," he began trying to distract himself, laughing a bit. "I'm Uchiha Naruto. Nice to meet you, uh . . . what was your name again?"

"Uzumaki Kushina."

"That's a nice name." Naruto nodded and then the gears in his head slowly turned. Blue eyes widened further and further, his jaw started to hang wide and he looked down at her with shock on his face.

She giggled a bit at his face no doubt. "You look funny, dattebane."

"Y-Yeah," he choked out and nervously laughed, which sounded more akin to a dying wheeze. He coughed trying to clear this throat.

"Is something wrong?" she asked eagerly.

"Oh nothing!" Naruto all but yelled. "I'm fine!" His voice came out too high.

"Are you sure?" Kushina looked nervously at him.

"Yeah!" It was still too high. The clouds finally departed and he got a close look at her face. There was no doubt about it. This was her alright, a different version of his mother in a different space-time continuum and the worst part was . . . he liked the way she looked at him with those small hints of care in her eyes. 'This is so wrong.'

Naruto felt someone heading towards him and his eyes widened further. A young blond teen with blue eyes, garbed in white and black with a Leaf headband on stopped in his path. He felt guiltier when he saw the blonde's hand filled with strands of crimson hair. 'Oh God, I feel like such a big dick now.' The shock in Namikaze Minato's eyes was disheartening to look at.

"Kushina," he sounded like a whining puppy. Naruto closed his eyes and shook his head. Soon enough, more people appeared. Garbed in grey vests and armed with tantō on their backs, the ANBU stood—all eyes on him.

Breathing, he greeted them. "Nice night for a walk, right guys?" They said nothing.

"I don't think they trust you," Kushina wisely whispered to him.

"You don't say."

||xXxXx—HNSWH—xXxXx||

Author's Notes II: There we go. Yeah, I know not funny like the previous chapters, but I guess I got right. The pacing was off, yes. For those who expected Madara redemption, well . . . L M A O. I decided to keep him as himself. He's not a hero, not a villain, he's just Madara. Hope you liked the meme reference and of course the quality of the writing. I could've gone for the cliched route where this Kushina falls in love with Nards at first sight, but I didn't. You've probably read that too many times. For those wanting to know what Nard's ponytail looks like, well I changed the picture to the story -if that matters. Make sure to review and if you can't PM me. If there are any mistakes in regarding grammar and something else that was off, do let me know. English isn't my first language and some blunders escape my eyes. Take care, my peeps.