Foreign Affairs

A/N: I feel the need to clarify. Why is the Mizukage male? Why are many things that have come to pass in the manga not reflected in this story?

This story was published first on fanfiction.net under my penname there, also Amrun. I decided to publish it here, too, on a whim, but obviously it's a bit behind the manga now. When Foreign Affairs was first published, the Mizukage, the final ending of the Pain battle, etc. was all a mystery. When I said it was manga compliant up to Chapter 445, I meant Chapter 445 and no more. That's more recent than most stories out there but I'm not going to rewrite the story to account for all bits of new canon as they come out.

Thanks for reading! I also have no idea how to reply to reviews on this site, which is supremely annoying. Know that I read and appreciate them, though. If there actually is a way to reply, drop me a line with instructions. I'm a little bit technologically retarded.

---

Shodaime. Nidaime. Sandaime. Yondaime. Godaime. Naruto let his eyes wash the stone faces that in turn watched over him, focusing most intently on the last three in line.

The Godaime would be up in her office at this time of day, grumbling about being buried in stacks of documents but completing her paperwork nonetheless. Occasionally, shinobi exposed to the more volatile side of her temper speculated that she was bitter over being tied to a desk and missed her old nomadic lifestyle, but Naruto knew better. He’d seen her at her lowest and most miserable, and knew that despite all of her regrets, in Konoha she was as happy as she could be.

All Naruto had of the Yondaime were second-hand stories and a few adrenaline-and-fear-laced memories that made very little sense in the grander scheme of his life. When he was younger, the Yondaime had been his hero, but now that Naruto knew the Yondaime was his actual father, his emotions were conflicted. No matter how Naruto tried to connect to the man, though he was dead, the Fourth Hokage just didn’t feel like his father. Naruto wasn’t used to having a family and he wasn’t sure how to deal with it. Truthfully, his life had been easier without the knowledge, and the problems his heritage was causing Konoha were simply not worth the trouble.

If Naruto were to be honest with himself, the Sandaime was more of a father-figure to him than his flesh and blood father. The Sandaime was a man whose mistakes weighed heavily on his soul but remained strong and pure-hearted in spite of it all. Naruto didn’t know exactly what those mistakes had been – though he had a vague suspicion that some of them involved Naruto himself and, judging by Jiraiya’s hints, Orochimaru – but the details were never important. All Naruto knew was that sometimes, in the quietest of moments, the old man had shown his soul in his eyes. That innate honesty is what made him the first person ever that Naruto had been willing to trust as a child.

“Naruto!” someone called from nearby, startling him from his nostalgia. “Hey, Naruto!” the man continued, and Naruto recognized the voice as belonging to Iruka-sensei. “What are you pondering that’s so serious, eh? That’s not a sight I see every day.”

“Just thinking … about Hokage. I miss Jiji,” admitted Naruto. Suddenly, Naruto registered the presence of twenty or so children and turned to face Iruka with a bright grin plastered on his face. He was disturbed to see his old teacher staring at him with worry in his eyes. “I was imagining how awesome my face is gonna look up there next to that old lady Tsunade’s!” Naruto exclaimed, changing gears quickly.

Iruka smiled, comforted by the return of his old pupil’s typical behavior. “I should probably pay the sculptors to make you look extra girly, to get back at you for all the times you defiled the rest of the Monument.”

Naruto stared, slack-jawed with shock. “You – you wouldn’t! That’s so unfair, sensei!”

Laughing, Iruka back turned back to his Academy students, who, for the most part, were watching the interaction between the two ninja with interest. “How many of you have ever met Uzumaki Naruto before?”

A couple of the students’ eyes widened in recognition, but none volunteered.

“Well, he’s someone to remember, so I’ll tell you a little bit about him. He studied under the famous Sharingan Kakashi and was apprenticed to Jiraiya-sama of the Three Legendary Sannin. He is also the only known master of the Sage Arts currently in the world, and he single-handedly defeated those that attacked our village such a short time ago. Recently, the Godaime Hokage publicly acknowledged that he is the strongest ninja in the village besides herself by inviting him to attend the Kage summit as her second.”

Naruto was blushing furiously, annoyed that Iruka was completely ignoring the hand signals imploring him to stop speech immediately. “Geez, Iruka-sensei. Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?”

“Not at all, Naruto!” Iruka laughed. “Students, Uzumaki Naruto is a ninja worthy of your respect, and if you train hard enough, maybe you’ll be as strong as him one day! Now, do you have any questions for him?”

Immediately, a group of girls started squealing and jumping up and down with their hands waving in the air. “Oooh, pick me, Naruto-sama! Pick me!”

“Naruto what?” he gasped, alarmed by this mode of address, but ironically found himself ignored in favor of squabbling over who would get a chance to ask a question first.

“Of course he’s not going to pick you, Izumi. You’re the worst in the class!” one girl snapped.

Naruto frowned. “Actually, I graduated last in my class. I even failed the test three times in a row. It doesn’t mean a lot, in the end.” Noticing Iruka’s suddenly stern face, he was quick to add, “But, uh, it’s a lot easier if you just learn it right the first time around. Trust me. So you should probably do your homework and stuff….” Glancing briefly over at Iruka, Naruto was pleased to see the chuunin smiling once more, obviously placated.

The students quieted, staring at him in fascination. “How you did someone as powerful as you fail?” called out a boy, broad-shouldered and stocky for his age. “Did you have a blood limit that emerged late or something?”

“Good question,” Naruto said, “but no, I don’t have any blood limits. I failed because I was a bad student, I guess. If I’d paid more attention to Iruka-sensei I could have passed sooner and probably been stronger by now. But I did start taking things more seriously, eventually, and worked pretty hard after that. You don’t need a blood line to become a great shinobi. Anyone can, if you train hard enough. One of the strongest ninja I know can’t use ninjutsu or genjutsu at all. To be honest, I’ve never quite figured out genjutsu myself….” Naruto scratched his head sheepishly. “But you definitely should, since it can damn useful sometimes.” Iruka cleared his throat severely as some of the students giggled at Naruto’s indiscretion. “Oh, sorry, Iruka-sensei. Anyway, the point is, having a blood limit is great and all, but it doesn’t make you better than any other ninja. It’s just another tool you have at your disposal. It’s how you use it that counts.”

The boy thought about this for a moment and nodded, seemingly satisfied. The small gaggle of girls started tittering again and one of them raised her hand after an encouraging nudge from a friend. Naruto nodded towards her.

“How old are you, Naruto-sama?”

Naruto stared at her blankly for a second before answering. “Uh… Sixteen.”

He didn’t know why the girls thought that was so funny, but decided to ignore it. Iruka-sensei indicated that one of the smaller boys who sported glasses should make the next inquiry.

The boy seemed nervous, for some reason. “My mother said – well, I don’t know if it’s – but she said that –“

“Just spit it out, Jirou!” sighed another student to the spectacled boy’s left, sounding slightly annoyed.

“She said that the attack on the village was your fault!” the boy said in a rush, his voice getting progressively higher in pitch as he went on. After the last word was spoken, he flushed deeply.

The broad-shouldered boy turned to his classmate angrily. “You’re mother’s just a civilian! What does she know?”

Naruto couldn’t quite meet the kids’ eyes as he opened his mouth to tell them that it was his fault after all, but Iruka-sensei cut him off.

“The person that invaded our village and killed our people was the leader of Amegakure and no one else, and Naruto defeated him. The blame lies with no one in Konoha, but only with the attackers themselves.”

“I’m sorry! It didn’t seem right, but my mother said, and –"

Iruka smiled kindly at the distressed boy. “It’s all right, Jirou. It’s a hard concept to understand even for ninja much more experienced than yourself. Nobody forces shinobi to do anything; they act on what they feel is the best for their village, usually, but in some cases, what they feel is best for themselves alone. As long as each of us does what we feel is right, then there is no point in looking back and assigning blame. If one goes around constantly pointing fingers, even at his own comrades, then the cycle of hatred will never end. We, as Konoha shinobi, stick together no matter what, and that is our true strength.”

Naruto stared at Iruka in wonder. That same issue had been eating away at him for weeks, but, somehow, he felt a little better now. How the man always knew just what to say to put him at ease was beyond Naruto, but he was grateful for it.

“Well, I heard that you’re the son of the Yondaime!” stated a girl with a confident voice and short, brown hair.

“Yeah, me too!” echoed another boy. “Is it true?”

Squirming uncomfortably, Naruto sighed. He should have known this would come up, but it still managed to catch him by surprise, as usual. “Yeah, it’s true.”

In response to his grudging admission, there was a fresh explosion of murmurs. Naruto heard muted voices whispering variations of “See! I told you so!” and “Figures.” He sighed, knowing that he would have much rather his parentage stayed a secret. Though he was definitely proud to have a Hokage for a father, he sometimes felt like it detracted from his accomplishments, and, in a way, cheapened them.

Until very recently, almost no one expected Uzumaki Naruto to do anything worthwhile or accomplish anything at all, really, so whenever he did, it was an uphill battle, but very rewarding. Now, people simply expected great things of Namikaze Minato’s son and wrote off his hard-earned achievements as a natural birth right. He wasn’t sure how much of this change in perception was due to his own growing power and how much could be attributed to people’s lasting love for the Yondaime. It was disconcerting, to say the least, and a little bit disappointing after all the years of hard work he’d devoted to gaining recognition.

“Okay, one more question!” Iruka announced. “Then we should let Naruto-sama here—" at this point, Iruka’s suspicious cough might have been covering a laugh, “—get back to his busy day!”

“Awww!” the class whined in unison.

“And we, of course, must return to our lessons on the history of the Hokage! Now, a last question?”

The dominant group of girls dissolved into giggles and whispers once more, and finally, a purple-haired girl raised her hand high, glaring around at her classmates as if daring them to try and steal her opportunity.

Iruka sighed wearily, apparently knowing the girl well enough to predict what might be coming. “Aiko?”

“Naruto-sama, will you be my boyfriend?” she asked brazenly, not hesitating to meet his gaze.

Naruto’s eyes practically bugged out of his head. “Will I – what?” he spluttered, too stunned to truly process what had just occurred.

“Be my boyfriend. I’m the strongest kunoichi in the class, you know,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Naruto could do nothing but gawk at her. Luckily, Iruka-sensei stepped in. “Don’t you think he’s a little old for you, Aiko?”

She sniffed in protest. “No, I don’t. My father is six years older than my mother, and I’m nearly thirteen!”

“Yeah, in eight and a half months you’ll be thirteen,” snorted one of the boys in amusement.

Naruto’s face felt hot. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say he had come down with a sudden high-grade fever. He glared at Iruka-sensei, who was biting down on his fist to keep from completely losing composure in front of his students.

“Well?” she demanded, flipping her long, violet hair over one shoulder. “Let’s meet at eight! The seafood restaurant just reopened downtown, and –"

Naruto rushed to snap out of his state of semi-shock before he was somehow roped into going on a date with a twelve-year-old. “No!” he yelped, panicking.

“No?” she asked, a confused look on her young face. “Don’t you like seafood, then?”

“No, I love seafood. I mean…. Sorry, er….” He paused here, desperately trying to remember her name.

“Aiko-chan,” supplied Iruka helpfully, still obviously suppressing gales of laughter.

“Aiko, look, I’m sorry, but I don’t want to uh … date you.”

Her face, previously so confident, was suddenly crestfallen. “Oh …. Okay, I guess.” She looked down, letting her hair cover her expression. Naruto had a sudden, awful realization that she may very possibly start crying right in front of him.

Naruto stared at the dejected girl in abject horror, praying Iruka-sensei would just take all of the Academy students away somewhere because he had no idea what to do in this situation.

“Uzumaki-san!” a vaguely familiar voice called from a distance. When he looked up to see a slightly out of breath chuunin he didn’t know by name but recognized as a regular messenger for the Hokage, Naruto thought he’d never been so happy to hear his own name in his entire life. “Sorry to bother you, Uzumaki-san,” huffed the chuunin, “but you’re needed in the Hokage’s office immediately!”

Naruto sighed in relief. “Right. Uh, thanks. You can take your time going back, if you want. I’ll go the quick way.” The chuunin nodded and sat heavily on a nearby bench. Naruto guessed this was only one of many top-priority messages he’d been sent to deliver recently and thought the ninja deserved a little break. “See you, Iruka-sensei!”

“Bye, Naruto. I’ll treat you to ramen sometime. Now, say goodbye to Naruto-sama, students!” Iruka cajoled, still enjoying himself quite thoroughly.

“Bye, Naruto-sama!” the obedient soon-to-be ninja replied with varying levels of enthusiasm.

Naruto rolled his eyes and set off with a speed that made the tired chuunin thankful Naruto hadn’t expected him to keep up.

---

Upon arrival at Tsunade’s office, Naruto slowed and entered with a leisurely saunter, just because he knew it would get on her nerves.

As he threw the doors open with a bang, he called, “Oi, baa-chan, what’s the big rush? Am I needed for a super secret S-class mission with mystery, danger, and a princess?”

When Tsunade failed to reply with her customarily annoyed greeting, Naruto dropped the façade. She had a foreboding expression on her face he had never seen before, not even once, and he didn’t like it at all.

“Yes,” she said simply.

“Huh? Seriously? You know those are my favorite kinds of missions, so why do you look like that?” He glanced around, for the first time bothering to identify the two others he’d sensed upon entering. “Wait. Gaara? Temari? What’s going on here, you old hag?”

Her face revealed nothing. “Naruto. You should probably sit down.”

He followed her instructions, though everything about her was off today. “Tsunade…?” he ventured cautiously.

“I’m about to tell you something that you won’t like. I can only hope you don’t hate me for it, because I have no choice in this, no matter how much I personally dislike it.” She looked him full-on in the eyes for the first time since he’d entered, and his throat caught at the pain and confusion he saw in her. “Please understand, Naruto. I did not want this for you.”

Naruto was really worried now. “I could never hate you, Baa-chan,” he reassured softly. “Just say it. Please. Is it Sasuke? Did Cloud kill him?”

She sighed. “No, it’s not Sasuke this time.” Pausing, she pushed her fingers into her temples tiredly. “You were at the summit. You know how delicate our situation is right now. Cloud is willing to work with us, but it’s obvious they have some latent resentment. If we make one wrong step, or even if we don’t, they’ll turn on us. Mist is barely civil, and Rock, well….”

Naruto averted his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be stupid, Naruto,” she snapped. “That mess isn’t even remotely your fault. You may be part of the excuse they’re using this time, but if it wasn’t you and your father, it would have been something else. We’ve never been on good terms with Rock. This is nothing new.”

Naruto grunted, trying to believe her but not quite succeeding. He waved his hand in a tacit signal to move on.

“The other nations know we’re weak right now; they’d never dare such open hostility otherwise. As it is, our strong alliance with Suna is our only insurance. If Sand was to break the treaty, the villages wouldn’t be able to resist invading. The whole of Fire Country would be at risk. To be honest, if the right villages align, even if Suna and the usual smaller villages remain loyal to us, we’d be at a disadvantage. War is, if not imminent, then likely sometime in the fairly near future. If we lost Suna, war would be definite, immediate, and the outcome would almost certainly not favor us.”

“Tsunade-baa-chan,” Naruto interrupted, a slightly whiney tone creeping into his voice. “Why are you explaining things I already know?”

“Tell me, Naruto,” began Gaara in his patent monotone, and Naruto quieted immediately. Gaara never spoke if he didn’t have something to say, so Naruto always listened. “Does Suna strike you as the type of village that holds on to disadvantageous alliances?”

Naruto could feel the blood draining from his head as he realized the implications of Gaara’s words. Something he’d once heard old lady Chiyou mutter came back to him now. “True alliances are pipe dreams,” she’d griped under her breath, as if it was something she recited to herself occasionally, out of habit, like it was a concept deeply ingrained. Of course, by the end, her heart had changed, but she was only one person of many….

“No,” Naruto answered gravely. “It does not.”

“I did what I could, Naruto,” said Gaara, face as stoic as ever. “I do not wish to break the treaty and it is largely through my influence that it is still unbroken as of yet. I hope it remains that way.”

Slowly, Naruto turned to him. “But….” he prompted.

“But it will not, unless a compromise is reached,” continued Gaara. “Kazekage I may be, but I can only stretch my authority so far lest I lose it, just like the Hokage. We have negotiated an arrangement agreeable to the councils of both Suna and Konoha. It will probably not, however, be agreeable to the two of you whom we have called to this room.”

Naruto’s blue eyes sought out Temari’s teal immediately. Her gaze was steely, giving nothing away, but she couldn’t hide that her hands were shaking as they gripped the back of Gaara’s chair. Naruto could tell that she knew what was coming and that she hated it completely. He also saw that she accepted it anyway.

He turned to face Tsunade squarely. “Okay,” he said, his voice more confident than he felt. “Hit me with it. I’m as ready as I’m going to get.”

She opened her mouth to finally say it, but still hesitated. After a moment of mustering herself, the Godaime Hokage finally spoke with the weight authority behind her words. “Uzumaki Naruto, son of Namikaze Minato, the Fourth Hokage, you are hereby ordered to procreate with Sabaku no Temari, daughter of –”

“No.” Naruto heard the strangled whisper and could hardly believe it came from his mouth. “No!” This time, it was more of a yell. “No! How could they – how could you let them – no!”

“Naruto,” said Gaara, still sickeningly calm. “It’s not quite as bad as it sounds, you know—"

“Of course it’s not! I’m sure it’s much worse!” Naruto snapped, for the first time in a long time feeling truly angry at both Gaara and Tsunade. “I thought you, of all people, Gaara, would understand. This is my life! I don’t get a say in anything, even this one damn –" His voice cut off with a choke, and the shouting abruptly ended. He looked down at his lap, blinking furiously.

He inhaled deeply, trying desperately to calm himself, but it was a futile attempt; his hands were digging into the arms of the chair almost painfully. He heard a sharp crack! and watched idly as one of the wooden arms split from the pressure – but somehow, the action didn’t seem connected to him at all.

“Shit,” he mumbled. “Shitshitshitshitshitshit.” Finally looking up, he saw something that he’d never seen before, and it shocked him to see it now. Old lady Tsunade was crying.

Something inside him broke at the sight, leaving him just like the arm of the chair he was sitting in.

“Tell me the terms,” he said quietly.