The Nine

Prologue

He moved the whetstone over the kunai with practiced ease. This was routine before every big mission he had, even though he purchased brand new ones after every mission too. Retail kunai sold in the stores just weren't up to the standard he liked.

Kunai needed to be extremely sharp to get the job done right. Any element of bluntness could be the difference between life and death. He chose life.

Well, he couldn't exactly complain. They could've exiled him by now if they wanted too, or worse: had him executed.

'Ha! Like I'd let them!'

He placed the last finished kunai down on his bed laid neatly next to its partners in death. Nodding in satisfaction, he bent down to reach under his bed. Grasping around blindly, he cursed in frustration at having not found what he was looking for.

Looking around his small, dirty room his eyes eventually fell upon a bundle of leathers and fabrics near his windowsill. He let out a soft sigh of relief.

Picking up the bundle, it unravelled to reveal a kunai holster and a pouch with a belt. Strapping the holster over the bandages on his right thigh, he placed the kunai inside neatly. Then he thread the belt through the pant loops allowing the pouch to fall comfortably in the appropriate place, easily accessible.

'One last thing.'

He looked over at the wall in his room opposite the open window. There on a mounted weapons rack, lay a katana.

He stepped in front of the katana, halting the sun's rays from the window. Lifting it off the wall he tested the weight in his hands. It was quite light, perfect for his build and style at least. It was made especially for him after all and was a gift from a friend in Lightning Country. Unsheathing the blade part way, he examined the intricate engraving in kanji just below the hilt.

"Kitsune."

Sheathing it once more, he strapped the katana to his back making it easily accessible if needed.

Taking a deep breath, he remembered why exactly he was preparing himself like this. He hadn't used the katana since the last war 2 years ago. He was 16 then: young, innocent, naive. He had made many comrades in that war, brothers and sisters in arms. A certain group of those brothers and sister was exactly the reason why he was preparing himself so.

He pleaded to the council and the Hokage to let him go. He asked them to at least assign him a reliable team or give him a time limit. But they wouldn't listen, they scoffed at his requests and now he's going to take things into his own hands.

Placing his hand over his pant pocket he registered the tell-tale sign of crumpled paper in his pocket. That single piece of paper is what started all of this. That single piece of paper could just start another war.

His comrades were in trouble, and he was going to save them.

He walked into his bathroom for the last time and looked at himself in the mirror. He was older now, more mature. He could look after himself. He was a ninja of the Hidden Leaf.

Looking up at his heading with the emblazoned leaf symbol, he closed his eyes for a few long seconds. Memories flashed through his mind: Gaining the rank of Genin. Chuunin. Jounin. His friends. The Hokage.

He opened his eyes and looked at his sad reflection. Hesitation flashed across his young features.

'No! I will not abandon them!'

Steeling himself, he narrowed his eyes and grasped the headband. Un-tying the knot he watched it fall and clatter loudly into the bathroom sink.

Taking out the piece of paper from his pocket, he placed it in the sink atop his now abandoned headband.

He looked at his reflection once again in the mirror. He was older now, more mature. He could look after himself. He was no longer a ninja of the Hidden Leaf.

'It's time.'

A bird fluttered outside his open bedroom window and he was gone. The only thing left behind was a worn headband and a single, crumpled piece of paper which fluttered slowly to the floor due to the sudden departure of a ninja.

That ninja was Uzumaki Naruto.